


Kaleidoscope

by totorox92



Series: Kaleidoscope [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Bad Decisions, Canon-Typical Violence, Drunken Confessions, Eventual Romance, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Underage, Mangekyou Sharingan, Multi, Original Character(s), Self-Insert, Sharingan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 59
Words: 134,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totorox92/pseuds/totorox92
Summary: Fear can make you do stupid things. When you're two years behind Itachi, that's a luxury you can't afford.





	1. Saturation 1.1

April 19

I was born into my second life utterly confused and disoriented. The first and only constant in my earliest days was mother, who held me even though I cried far too much for a normal baby, and whispered softly to me every night as I struggled to make sense of all the conflicting thoughts and memories, her long hair falling down around me in a protective cocoon as I bawled, gleaming light turning the black to indigo.

“It’s okay sweetie, it’s okay, mama’s here, it’s okay Hiroki.”

And so it was that Uchiha Hiroki came to be.

 

. . .

 

I often wondered as I grew older if my mother might not have been blessed with the gift of prophecy, for my name was spelled in a somewhat unusual manner.

_Searching Light._

It was peculiarly fitting, for I never stopped moving once I had achieved some semblance of order in my thoughts. There was so little time, and so much to see and do.

I was an Uchiha, and thus I was cursed. Born of the line of Otsutsuki Indra, and blessed with both his eyes and his legacy of madness.

This was not necessarily the most terrible thing that could happen to one dropped into the Elemental Countries, certainly there were worse fates. I would be a strong ninja, at the very least, which was a great boon to one’s chances of survival on this planet.

My earliest years were fairly sheltered and I was rarely allowed to leave the house, but our backyard was beautifully maintained by my mother, who filled it with lovely white and purple orchids. Our house was not very large, but the smaller size made it cozy and it was nicely shaded by the Hashirama trees whose broad green leaves cast dappled shadows over my infant flailings in the strong summer sun, and in the fall turned orange and helped the oncoming dusk change the windows to warm fire.

Oh the trees, the glorious trees, towering against the sky, a bulwark against any threat. Not for naught were we called the Village Hidden in the Leaves, for the grand pillars of the Shodaime’s bloodline were omnipresent amongst the buildings, and to a child the shade of the canopy was better than any security blanket.

There would be time later to train, time to grow. I would not slack, of course, because War might yet be looming, I could not know for sure when I was yet.

But for a time, I was content.

 

. . .

How foolish youth.

 

. . .

When I was three the Kyuubi broke free from its Seal and decimated Konoha.

Our pleasant little house was destroyed, along with much of the Uchiha quarter as my mother and I huddled in the fallout shelters under the Hokage monument, crouched in terrified silence with the rest of the civilians as titanic waves of malevolent energy reshaped the landscape.

When the dust settled we moved to a new house, in a new walled off part of the village, and there were no more cool summers and shady autumns in the lee of great trees, and there never would be again.

Dreams plagued everyone, the malefic echoes of the Bijuu given form in the sleeping mind, but mine were not of the Fox.

The trees rush past in the dim moonlight, shapes given definition by the shadows which the anemic silver luminance does not relieve so much as highlight. The inky blue of the hollows in their roots exert a sucking pressure and lend the grass between the wavering spaces the sickening green hue of an old bruise viewed through tear blurred eyes.

Feet pound in unsteady rhythm, a drumbeat of frantic flight warped to torpor slowness by the clutching shades of indistinct figures hiding behind the towering wooden columns. The ground turns under foot, traitor earth rushing up to blind, fall brought short at the last moment by shaking arms.

Sandaled feet appear ahead, soundless across the cold and barren clearing, flecks of ice spreading to leech color from the surroundings and leave them a tired clinical grey. A sudden flip and a cloaked figure looms, visage bleeding from black inscrutability into Itachi, face lined and pale and devoid of pity as his eyes expand and swirl, red on black consuming the moon to glower down on frozen limbs with baleful crimson disdain as it peeks through incongruously bright leaves. Steel flashes once more and the view topples in accompaniment to shooting pain-

I wake to clutch at the neck so recently severed with a silent scream on my lips.

. . .

A/N: This work is cross posted from Spacebattles. Unfortunately, a03 has... odd formatting stuff going on, which I did not know before, so some things may be a bit wibbly.


	2. Saturation 1.2

Feb 2, 1 AK

I gazed flatly at the faded brown wood of the training log buried standing upright in the backyard of the new house in the Uchiha compound and fingered the pouch hanging from my shorts absently. The early spring wind whistled gently around the edges of the building and sent a tiny chill up my spine even in the late afternoon even as it rustled the feeble green pushing up amongst the dead patches of the poorly tended lawn.

Hold the kunai parallel to palm, bring hand back to opposite shoulder, flick arm forward, use wrist to aim following smooth arc, release kunai while tip is pointing at target. Repeat until too dark to see.

Mother was somewhat reluctant to give me detailed instruction in the ninja arts so young but there was no more time to be content, only time to survive. Her few tips on form and technique formed the basis for my new existence and practice consumed every waking moment not devoted to bodily maintenance. I had little natural aptitude for the ninja arts, so I made up for it with repetition.

Breath in, curl fist with thumb out from core, fist held slightly above waist height, push out while twisting arm till palm is parallel with the ground, extend the punch through the target, finish breathing out. Retract fist one while mirroring with fist two. Repeat until bleeding.

I was on a time limit, a hard one. I had seven years, and if I was not strong, if I was not competent, if I could not prove my value, then I would die with the rest of my clan. Just two years younger than Itachi, and I was already doomed.

Breath deep, keep shoulders back, keep eyes on the road ahead and off feet, maintain an even stride length, take small sips of water. Repeat until unconscious.

Tick tock, goes the clock, now we all must die.

Certainly my father would perish. He was very proper, Uchiha Genryusai, very much a model Uchiha. Not a bad man, not at all, though I did not see him quite enough to form a solid opinion of him. He was a tokubetsu Jounin, though from what I understood not actually an exceptional one. He only managed tokubetsu because of his proficiency with Genjutsu, and he only possessed that because of the Sharingan. Mediocre chakra reserves, and no notable traits besides his eyes.

My mother was, as I said, my rock. Uchiha Yuki had retired at the rank of Chunin to breed up the next generation, as is proper for Uchiha ladies who have awoken their Sharingan, and she helped me greatly during the earliest years of training.

“No, Hiroki, like this, keep your elbow in tight while you punch. If you push out too much you lose power. Okay?”

“Yes mother. Like this?”

My knuckles thunked heavily into the wood. I ignored the slight sting and looked back to mother for correction, my eyes wide and observant as I searched for motions approval in the shifting folds of her lavender kimono.

“Good. Like that. But don’t push yourself too hard, I don’t want you coming home with bloody hands again.”

I smiled faintly at her and she returned the gesture with a smile of her own, the tilt of her head allowing her hair to send long shadows over her face, giving the alabaster skin a somber caste. We both knew it was vain to hope that I would stop before injury.

The one arguable downside to spending so much time at home was the reputation I built among the other Uchiha children. Momma’s boy, Training freak, Weirdo. Fortunately their attempts at interaction were minimal so I was spared much in the way of teasing.

“Hey, you wanna play ninja with us?”

The boy in dark blue clothes was met with only a blank black stare from my position beneath a tree in one of the compound’s smaller parks, eyes grown accustomed to the undistracting pink of my own hands forced to blink as they reset. It was a more or less pleasant spot to train my chakra for most of the year due to the slightly clammy sage-green shade of the trees. Provided I wasn’t being bothered by toddlers. His companion tugged on his sleeve, pulling him away from my spot.

“Not him; Hiroki’s a weirdo. Let’s ask Satsuki.”

The trio of raven haired children ran past me as I continued to sit in a lotus position, feeling out my chakra system. I didn’t have any friends inside my clan, or to be honest, outside it either. Why bother getting chummy with pre-corpses?

The only member of my very extended family that deserved, or indeed received, any of my respect and attention was my mother.

“Where did you want the folded clothes?”

She glanced up from the dishes in the sink with a little surprise, pushing back a few stray locks of hair with the back of a soapy hand cleaned in the next moment on her sky blue apron inscribed with the Uchiha fan.

“Oh! Did you empty the drier? Sweetie, you didn’t have to do that, I can take care of it.”

I blinked up at her over the stack of neatly folded clothes, the basket stuffed with clean shirts in the clan’s favored blue and black in a pile almost taller than I was.

“I don’t mind. I’m too tired to practice today, so I thought I could help you.”

Her smile sent a thrill of warm pleasure through me, even tinged as it was with an expression of chastisement at my tacit admission of overwork.

“You can put it at the foot of my futon, okay? Thank you, Hiroki.”

I tried in all things to be respectful of her wishes, though I could not quite be everything she wanted for doing so would have meant far less time to train. Still, aside from the disagreement over training, I was a model child. Quiet, polite, helpful. Whenever I was too sore to train for another day I would spend time with her, helping to cook, or asking her to read me stories; anything to brighten her day.

Much as I loathed it, I could not save her. She was loyal to her husband, and therefore the clan, and so she would die. Still I clung to her while I could, and tried to ensure that her experience of motherhood was a good one. She would be gone all too soon.

. . . 

It was surreal, seeing all these people and knowing that soon they would be dust and memory. The Uchiha cremated their dead, and it became hard for me to not smell smoke when I looked at the black haired figures passing me on the street, and the taste of ash was ever present on my tongue on the rare occasions I spoke to them.

I could never eat more than a few bites in the presence of my extended family without throwing up. It happened often enough that they took me to the doctor, who of course could find nothing wrong. How could I tell them, how could I explain, that I couldn’t look at black hair, black eyes, and pale skin without food turning to so much charred flesh in my mouth?

Combined with my obsessive training, my antisocial behaviour was noted as worrisome, but not counterproductive, by the older members of the clan. The Uchiha prized strength above everything, and if nothing else, in this way I was similar to my new family for strength was what I sought above all.

Every thudding strike against the training post or pounding footstep on the jogging path was a beat of the mantra in my head and heart, and every scrape and bloody bandage proof of my commitment to survival.

_  
I must be strong._

_If I am not strong, I will die._

_Strength opens doors._

_These doors will let me escape._

_No pit is too deep to sink to._

_No mountain is too high to climb._

_Anything that I can do, I must do._

_Strength is the reward for my effort._

_With strength, I can be free from fear._

_I must be strong.  
_

I was so afraid.

. . .

A/N: Don't worry about the timeline too much; if it matters when something happens relative to another thing the segment will start with the date.


	3. Saturation 1.3

I fingered the high collar of the blue t-shirt mother had bought for me with a blank expression of contemplation, digits sliding over the embroidered uchiwa to pick nervously at individual stitches.

The high collar was traditional amongst the Uchiha, or possibly merely fashionable; I wasn’t sure and didn’t care to investigate further. At any rate, it was a strong identifier of outsider status for none of the children in the village proper wore such things. Without the distinctive clothing I could almost pass for a civilian. The Uchiha were a little bit paler than average, but the general stock of the elemental countries, despite outliers like Naruto, was stereotypical asian: black or dark brown hair and black or dark brown eyes.

Ninjas threw a huge wrench in that with their weird bloodlines, like the Yamanaka’s pupil-less eyes, but they were the minority. The super majority of humans were fairly average in appearance, and I was within one standard deviation of that norm being a relatively banal specimen of the Uchiha’s black on pale on black.

...Save for the shirt. An affectation. An inconvenience. A mark of otherness which set me apart from the rest of Konoha and the other shinobi.

That just wouldn’t do.

I reached into my pouch for a kunai and made a few, small, careful cuts; nothing blatant as sabotage or intentional damage, all the sort of marks which could be written off as training wear, but which would eventually accumulate on the shirt until it fell apart and needed to be replaced. A careful pricking of some of the seams, a little tear on the hem, and the garment would die a messy death, opening the way for replacements.

If I wanted to set myself apart from the rest of the pre-corpses in my clan, I would need to dress the part. It would take a while for my requests for grey long sleeves with _normal_ collars to be met, but I could afford to wait, for this.

. . .

November 24, 3 AK

It was a difficult problem, managing my time. I was sitting again beneath my favored tree, watching the leaves changing color from faded greens to dull browns and yellows, still clinging reluctantly to the lesser trees of the Uchiha compound against the backdrop of autumn blue sky dulled by intermittent wisps of off white cloud. I only had a moment to take a break between exercises and catch my breath, but even that time was invested in planning my next move.

What was more important? Should I run another lap of the training field? Some pushups maybe?

My gaze lingered for a moment at the fallen leaves swirling in the wind and my shoulders twinged sympathetically at the chill; perhaps I should practice more with my chakra today and allow my muscles to rest.

I had no time, no time for uncertainty or experimentation. I had to make do with off the cuff estimates and back-of-the-napkin calculations on how to invest the ever dwindling number of seconds I had at my disposal. I couldn’t afford the time to _find_ optimal strategies for improvement, and I couldn’t afford not to _be_ optimal.

I scratched nervously at the back of my hand hard enough to break the skin, tiny beads of bright carmine welling up from the excessive force. I licked up the seeping blood absently, taste of copper sitting in my mouth thick as syrup, sticking to my teeth and lingering on my breath, a tangible reminder of my own transient nature, no more real than the shadows cast by the early morning sun.

Run, punch, focus, fingers, speed, stamina, chakra, jutsu, again, again, again-

My mind floated away from my body as I rose and set to sprinting along the dusty track, course momentarily decided upon.

Every second was precious, every moment another step up the infinite ladder of power, the ladder I needed to climb as quickly as I could. I could not allow missteps; a single serious injury or dead end training routine could be the final nail in my coffin, the unrecoverable opportunity gone forever.

The same questions, over and over.

Should I be fast and light? Should I be slow and durable? Should I be clever and twisty?

What would Itachi think most useful? What would help me get stronger faster? What would convince the village I should be excluded from the purge?

I couldn’t ask anyone for advice; I was rarely allowed to wander on my own outside the compound and the libraries were only open to Genin and above, and contained scarcely anything besides when paranoid ninja hoarded their knowledge for their students and family. None of the Uchiha would understand, for they would see the desire for power and try to shape me to be like them, a course which would merely seal my doom faster.

I would smile and nod along with the rest of the Uchiha children in the classes which taught us reading and writing and basic math, allowing the subtler lessons of Uchiha superiority to trickle away unheeded. There was no help to be had there.

The wind in the trees became the whisper of sand, running through the glass, each grain lost forever. A million chances, and I could only take a few.

I needed more.

 . . .

March 28, 4 AK

“He’s only six years old.”

“Almost seven. He’ll _be_ seven by the beginning of the semester. Itachi joined the academy at six. He graduated in only a year and now he’s on track to become a Chunin!”

“Itachi is a _prodigy_ ; Hiroki is quick but he isn’t-”

“Bah! Hiroki is strong enough. You molly coddle him too much. At least _he_ takes his training seriously!”

“Too seriously Genryusai. You aren’t here; You don’t see him coming home dripping blood after beating himself raw on the training posts 6 nights a week!”

“Do you think keeping him out of the academy will _help_? Do you think he’ll _stop_ beating himself bloody if we keep him out for longer? You can’t stop him Yuki, he’s going to be a ninja regardless of what you _or_ I want.”

I tapped a foot gently on the darkly varnished wooden floor and the conversation cut off. My father pulled the faintly glowing eggshell screen open and looked down at me with a stern and slightly disapproving gaze, tinged with a light dusting of paternal concern. I blinked up at him placidly for a second then ducked under the hanging sleeve of his midnight blue kimono and climbed into my mother’s lap, head nestling in the folds of her pale lavender house robe.

“I want to enter the academy. I need to be stronger. To make you proud of me. To be an example to the village of the value of the Uchiha. I haven’t even unlocked my Sharingan yet.”

My voice quavered with emotion and my eyes focused on the stark white and red fan of the clan crest on the wall. My parents probably interpreted the tremble as shame, my mother hugging me closer in comfort, but it was only fear. I couldn’t possibly stand against Itachi without awakened eyes, not if I trained a hundred years. Even then it was a longshot, at best.

My father spoke as if it was no great gap, but Itachi _was_ a prodigy. I had watched him train more than once over the years and he was flawless. His form was perfect, his skill with our Bloodline was unparalleled, and his chakra reserves were already well developed for a child his age. I needed to press harder if I was to even stay in his shadow, and the academy would give me a chance to do so. More importantly, it would give me the opportunity to get a Jounin sensei, and the significant boost in strength that was synonymous with such an arrangement.

I would join the academy, and become strong.

Strength is Life. Weakness is Death.

. . .

A/N: formatting is a pain.


	4. Saturation 1.4

November 14, 4 AK

I hit the training post hard enough that the slightly grimy wood creaked, leaving a bloody imprint of my knuckles behind to further encrust the aged log.

‘Average, maybe a bit better.’

The _fucking_ Chunin instructor, just casually consigning me to death, to a faceless grave, forgotten before I had even made a proper name for myself, as if _Sasuke_ would care about some random second cousin once removed, as if Itachi and Obito would even know my _fucking_ face. Just another name on the memorial or whatever they decided to put up to commemorate the fall of the Uchiha. Spat upon by the village most likely, the little kanji scratchings covered by moss and dust and faded to nothing in a decade, at best.

All because some noname academy teacher thought I wasn’t impressive enough?!

FUCK THAT.

I wouldn’t let some _nobody_ , some _cannon fodder_ , some _dropout_ no-talent _hack_ tell me to calmly accept death because I was ‘still growing’. I didn’t have _time_ to grow, I needed to be strong _now_!

A rush of chakra to my fist sent cracks through the log, a few flakes of old effort fluttering off in a tepid greyish cloud.

Cracks. Just cracks. Not shattering it into a thousand tiny pieces, not making it explode in a puff of dust, not… not good enough. Not good enough to live.

I sank to my knees and began to shake with silent, panicked sobs. My chest heaved but no sound escaped as tears dropped from my face onto the hard packed earth of the training field, moisture briefly darkening the dusty brown earth before fading away into nothing, just like I would.

A soft sound from behind me, a shinobi being polite. I stood, not quite as fluidly as I would have liked, and wiped at my eyes before turning to greet the interloper.

My breath caught in my throat, my blood turned to ice, and I froze in utter terror.

Itachi.

The cold hand of inevitable fate settled around my shoulders like a cloak and its silken voice whispered sweetly in my ear as I lost myself in the depths of midnight held in his gaze.

_Look, here he is, your death incarnate. Will it be quick? A stiletto through the eye, a yanking snap of the neck, and then fade to black? Will it be slow? A sword across the gut, your organs on display, so you can watch your insides fall out and scream your last breath, trying to clutch your intestines in with the scent of shit filling your nose? Will it hurt? A long, slow bleed, out in the forest as you crawl away like an animal? Will it **HURT**?_

My eyes burned and everything became so _clear_.

My executioner raised an elegant eyebrow, face set in a polite and expressionless mask of nobility.

“I had not heard that you had awakened your Sharingan, Hiroki-san.”

I smiled mechanically, jerkily, and nodded my head.

He must not know, He must not _see_ , I _must not_ fear, _fear_ is the mindkiller-

“It was very recent Itachi-sama.”

His brows pinched infinitesimally at the honorific and I visibly flinched, breath growing slightly more rapid. His expression smoothed once more to placid unreadability and I had to fight the urge to begin scratching at my hands from nerves.

My eyes stopped burning and clarity left the world as I forced down the instinctive threat response sending chakra to my eyes. I forced a modest laugh, bandaged and bloody hand rubbing the back of my head in feigned embarrassment as I scuffed at the ground with a black sandaled foot.

“Sorry, I only meant- that is- you startled me.”

He hummed in acknowledgment and cocked his head ever so slightly. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ , can’t act like a normal to _literally save your life_ -

“I startled you bad enough to awaken your Sharingan?”

I froze again, like every little white rabbit that ever tried to hide from the hawk, please don’t look here, look somewhere else, there’s _nothing_ here, _I_ am nothing, I want to _live_ , please, please, _please_ -

“I- I didn’t mean, you’re just, uh, my Idol, Itachi-sama. You’re so strong, you- you’re just- better.”

I clamped onto my wrist with an abnormally steady hand to stop it twitching and desperately tried to keep my gaze steady, but unable to stop it from darting anywhere but on Itachi, searching for escape routes. There was no escape, there was _never_ any escape, I was too weak, too _pathetic_ , too slow, too _dumb_ -

“I have always held you as the epitome of what it means to be a shinobi of the Leaf; I have been trying to match your achievements, but I fear that I lack your natural aptitude.”

Because I wasn’t born with some bullshit reincarnation destiny, and you were, and you’re going to _kill_ me because I didn’t win the fucking _lottery_ -

“I was somewhat… discomfited by my mid-semester performance evaluation at the academy however; it seems likely I will not be able to graduate in only a year. Then seeing you… I apologize most sincerely.”

I knelt my head into a steep bow and my whole body clenched to avoid trembling. Would he buy it? Would he see through the half-truth? Would he just decide to get this one out of the way early, a quick stab to the base of the skull, unfortunate training accident, so sad, prime of his life, oh well, _move along_ -

Sandaled feet appeared before me, long shadow consuming the multitude of fine variations in color as it spread across the ground.

I couldn’t breathe around the tightness in my throat, and my eyes began to swim once more with tears, it wasn’t fair, why did _I_ have to die, I worked so _hard_ -

“I am sorry to hear that. I have seen how much effort you put into training. I am sure you will do the clan proud.”

My head jerked from side to side in negative, motion stiff and forced, he would see through it, he would _know_ , _say_ something, _say something_ -

“The clan can take care of itself. My first duty is to the village.”

Silence. Just like everything Itachi did, he was completely devoid of presence whenever he didn’t want to be noticed. He was a ghost, no more substance than a mirage, and just as cruel to travelers in the desert. I couldn’t even hear him breathing, and the only sound in the training field was the faintest rustle of wind in the trees and the pounding of my heart in my ears.

“...Indeed.”

And the feet turned away, the shadow retreated, the hawk flew on, behold: the rabbit lives for another day.

The gentle padding of Itachi’s retreat filled me with such palpable relief that I nearly threw up, falling to my knees as my legs turned to rubber in the shuddering wake of adrenalin. I held it in, swallowing the bile back down and only straightening after I had finally caught up to my racing breath, the restrained trembling back full force as my fingers twitched spasmodically as they clawed at the dark soil of the training ground.

When at last I was able to stand straight I turned back to the post and set to with an energy renewed by the burning throb of panic in my skull, the desperate beat of the fleeing rabbit’s tread mirrored in the hammering of my frenzied heart.

I _will not_ die. I _must_ be strong.

. . .

 The sunset that night was beautiful, and the leaves of the trees became fire as the lingering yellow rays of light streamed through them. Fear of Death is the Spice of Life. Who knew?

. . .

A/N: Just because a thing happened once does not mean it will happen again. One reincarnation is no gauarantee of another.


	5. Saturation 1.5

May 13, 5 AK

I could hardly tear my gaze from the piercing blue sky of early summer, the world leant a dreamy neon edging by the blistering white sunlight and the haze of endorphins rushing through my head.

Marginal. My pass was _marginal_ , but I made it, by the skin of my teeth and judicious use of my Sharingan. I was probably in the bottom ten percent of the graduating class, actually, but I did graduate, and after only one year in the academy, a fact which filled me anew with a fierce and predatory joy every time I remembered it.

I was reminded of the old joke.

What do you call a doctor that barely passed his MCATs?

A doctor.

Even with a slim pass, I still _passed_. I was now part of squad 19, with two older children who I had never heard of and a Jounin sensei who’s name I didn’t catch, floating as I was in the haze of euphoric relief at my hard won success.

I took a breath and shook my head clear of distracting emotions, refocusing on the present and my team.

No. I mustn't think of them like that, as faceless no ones. They need to _matter_ to me. I need to _love_ them. And then, they needed to die. KIA, of course, for Itachi would never forgive such betrayal of the Will of Fire. Just… well. It happened. The mortality rates for newly minted Genin were atrocious, even in peacetime. I didn’t need to do anything precipitous, just let nature run its course. But it had to hurt, to awaken the Mangekyou, which meant I needed to care for them. And the first step to that was getting _them_ to like _me_.

Curse you shortsighted antisocial tendencies! What do children even _do_ when they aren’t training?

“Hi, uh, sorry, I was kind of distracted when they were doing team assignments. I'm Hiroki, Uchiha Hiroki, it’s nice to meet you. What are your names?”

The girl gives me a slightly put upon look as if I’m already intentionally trying to drag her down with my youth and short stature, the wild spikes of her auburn hair bristling from her hooded leather jacket as her head jerks slightly in acknowledgement, and her frown pulling at the small clan markings on her cheeks and setting her yellowed eyes to glinting.

“Inuzuka Nikkei. This is my ninken Kenji.”

The small brown dog gives a yip of hello. The other boy on the team just looks a little bit sleepy, well tanned face relaxed and eyelids half closed over pale green orbs, but he gives me a small wave of acknowledgment, the motion barely shifting the longsleeved amber shirt he wore over cornflower blue pants.

“Yo. I’m Shimura Wasabi. Sup?”

I carefully school my expression to avoid blinking in surprise at the name. I had known intellectually Danzo must have had a clan, but I hadn’t expected to meet any of them, and certainly not anticipated being on the same squad as one. I smiled politely back towards the shaven headed boy, making sure to crinkle the corner of my eyes so it looked natural, covering the momentary lull in conversation with a little cough.

“Ahh, any relation to Shimura _Danzo_ perchance? Advisor to the Sandaime?”

Wasabi raised an eyebrow at the name drop but nodded a positive.

“Yeah; my uncle’s cousin or something like that. Don’t see him much of course, he’s a busy guy.”

I nod pleasantly, my hair shifting slightly from the unexpected weight of my brand new forehead protector.

“I can imagine. It is much the same in my family; father is a tokubetsu Jounin and since he has the Sharingan he spends a lot of time outside of the village.”

Nikkei sniffs irritably, leaning back a bit in her chair to look down her nose at me.

“ _My_ dad’s a _full_ Jounin. Front line combat, one of the strongest ninken partnerships in a century!”

I blinked, slightly taken aback by her aggressive posture, but I make a recovery soon enough, offering up another slightly bland smile.

“Oh wow! That’s impressive! I hope I get to meet him one day, he’s sounds really cool. I wish I had a partner I could rely on like that!”

My kunoichi teammate smirked quizzically at me in slightly nonplussed condescension but seemed pleased at my flattery regardless, even though she clearly expected more arrogance from an Uchiha. Wasabi gave her an unimpressed look, but before the laconic boy could say anything to disturb her I asked him another question.

“What about you Wasabi-san? Does your clan have any cool techniques?”

People always like to talk about themselves, it’s a near universal failing of humans. Even people who describe themselves as shy or introverted like talking about themselves for _you_ are always the most important thing as far as your brain is concerned.

My teammate proves this by sitting up a little and smiling a bit at my show of interest.

“Oh, yeah. It’s not a Bloodline or anything, but the Shimura hold the summoning contract of the Tapir Clan, and we’re all really good at nature transformations. Check it out!”

He concentrated on a kunai pulled from a pocket, and after a moment it began to waver with faint heat lines. I whistled appreciatively, and even Nikkei seemed reluctantly impressed. It was a pretty decent feat for a rookie Genin, at least one who wasn’t named Itachi or Kakashi.

We ended up waiting for a fairly long while for our sensei to arrive, and I tried to keep up a low level of small talk and mild flattery in the hopes of building up a little team spirit. We’d have to be extraordinarily unlucky to get somebody touting around an exam as difficult for a new team as the bell test was, but there was almost certainly going to be some form of examination from our new sensei and teamwork was a major virtue in Konoha; it couldn’t hurt to start generating an air of camaraderie.

When the door finally opened, I was actually in a pretty good mood, despite myself. Wasabi had a very dry sense of humor, and liked slipping in a bit of innuendo to see Nikkei flush. She of course denied that he was making her uncomfortable, but her blazing blush said otherwise. I looked up to see who had entered and my smile became formaldehyde quality fixed as I took in the gravity defying mop of hair and slanted forehead protector.

Kakashi blinked at us placidly.

“My first impression of you guys… idiots.”

 . . .

 As I followed my teammates and sensei to the roof my smile remained as genuine as I could fake, which was pretty genuine indeed, but inside my head was spinning and my feet felt like lead weights as they tread on the cement steps.

Did the universe actually want me to die? It had always seemed like hyperbole, a lie to keep me motivated, a challenge from the cosmos themselves to which I replied with a scream of defiance. But this…

Was I in hell? Or maybe purgatory? Being punished for the sins of a past life? To have almost-chances dangled before me, only to be tugged away at the last moment; It seemed unreasonably cruel to go about it in this way. I loved my mother, and she was going to die. What had she ever done? Why? Just… why?

This was not the Kakashi of Naruto’s time. This was not the Kakashi who had more than a decade of life in ANBU to work through the pain of losing his sensei and surrogate family. It was even odds we were the first Genin team he was going to evaluate, fair chance that the mere sight of fresh faced kids filled him with disgust and self-loathing. His face was blank, but was that a trace of hostility I saw? I couldn’t quite stop my cheek from twitching as I carefully maintained the cheerful and attentive facade.

I would fail the bell test. The only teams that passed did so on luck; it was an idiotic testing method for children who had never met each other before and had no hardening against psychological warfare. I would fail, and then I would die. Genin who failed their sensei’s exam faced one of two options: either bounced back to the academy for another year, or joining the Genin pool. The pool was a dead end; without proper training from an experienced ninja scraping a promotion to Chunin would take years, at best. The academy wouldn’t work either, I didn’t have time to waste in that den of mediocrity for another year.

I felt a sort of surreal calm settle on me as the pristine white clouds drifted overhead. This was it then. I was going to die because of… heh, luck of the draw. Once more. It sort of lent credence to the theory that this was hell: there were so many things that might have gone differently that would have made life easier. If I was a year older I wouldn’t have to worry as much. If I was a year younger, I could maybe beg for mercy, or at least live knowing that it was utterly futile to even try. Save myself the effort of working my fingers to the bone on the training posts almost every night for five years straight.

Hatake gave his non introduction, and the muscles of my jaw tightened imperceptibly.

No.

I hadn’t worked this long and this hard just so this angsty asshole could give me yet another death sentence. I hadn’t let that fucking Chunin instructor kill me with his ‘average’ evaluation; I would be damned if this social cripple did it with his _indifference_.

He must have heard my teeth grinding, for his attention fell on me; half lidded, bored gaze definitely becoming a trifle cool as he looked me over.

“Why don't we start with you Smiles?”

My face stretched wider in reflexive response, before I experienced a frozen moment of panic. What should I say?

“Hey there! My name’s Uchiha Hiroki. I like…” my mother, no, don’t say that, idiot, “trees!” Nice. Moron. “ ...and dango!”

There, that was normal enough.

“I dislike people who betray their friends.”

Okay, weird looks, might be coming on a bit too heavy there.

“My hobbies are training and… um... cat, watching?”

Skeptical looks from the Inuzuka and Dog summoner. _Brilliant_ fucking job.

“My dream for the future is to survive to my twelfth birthday and to be an asset for the village!”

Fuck it, might as well go all in. Cue vaguely disturbed looks from my fellow Genin and the continuation of the flat, apathetic stare from my Jounin sensei.

Kakashi blinked languidly.

“...Uh huh. Alrighty then, Mutt, how bout you?”

I shivered slightly at the sudden release of tension as we shifted our collective attention onto what Nikkei had to say. That was awful. Worse, it was counterproductive to survival.

Pity was the death of cooperation. If my teammates thought I was too weak they would never play out the bell test as it had to be done, they wouldn’t _want_ me to pass, ‘for my own good’. Intolerable. I had to act fast.

When Kakashi left us with the admonition to not eat breakfast before the test tommorow I immediately turned to my two teammates.

“Hey, how’s about we get a little practice in before we all head home? I know he said we should rest up for tomorrow, but a little spar to keep our skills sharp can’t hurt, right? And it’ll help us get a better sense of how each of us can fit in on the team. Even if we haven’t passed the test yet, we can still see if we work out together.”

Wasabi yawned hugely.

“I think I’ll pass.”

My smile became slightly brittle.

“Ah, come on, what, scared to get beaten by an eight year old?”

I put a bit of laugh into it to keep the tone light. Too light, apparently.

“Oh you know it. I wouldn’t want to be so shamed in front of a pretty lady like Nikkei-chan.”

He hopped off the roof and began making his way off across the rooftops of the village. I felt my last ergs of hope trickling away but I turned to Nikkei anyway, an inquisitive, hopeful expression on my face.

“Nah, I got some stuff to do. Want to be really prepared for whatever Hatake-sensei has planned for us. You should probably go home too, you’ve been twitchy all day. An early night will do you good, shortstuff.”

My smile remained fixed on my face as my last ditch attempt at survival fled into the late afternoon, the expression growing ever harsher as the light began to fade, distended shadows throwing my features into jagged relief.

Fine. If they wouldn’t help me, I’d just have to help them even harder to make up for it.

. . .

 “Hey guys! I made bentos, in case things end up going a little late. I brought some little snacks too; I asked my mom and she pointed out that technically we just don’t want to _over_ eat before a heavy workout, but having something light in your stomach can help keep you going.”

Nikkei blinked at me in surprise as I presented the garishly wrapped orange and yellow packages, but Wasabi nodded appreciatively.

“Cool. I thought the same way, actually; I had a few pieces of fruit for breakfast.”

I gave him a big smile and turned to Nikkei with a slightly hopeful look, a protein bar extended. She huffed in irritation but grabbed the snack from me anyway, ripping into it aggressively.

“Disobeying orders already?”

Fuck. He wasn’t supposed to be here for at least another hour. Big smiles.

“Well Hatake-sensei, you didn’t _order_ us not to eat, you just _advised_ we’d probably throw up if we did. I assume this was part of the assessment as we’d only throw up if we ate improperly, not if we ate _at all_.”

A flat stare, single grey eye blinking slowly in the exposed wedge of skin.

“Hmm. Well. I suppose we might as well get started then.”

Two bells. Two winners. One loser. I saw Nikkei and Wasabi give me sidelong looks, but I kept smiling, crinkled eyes and all. Kakashi didn’t seem to buy it. There were faint lines under his visible eye that spoke of long nights and hard choices, the green of his flak jacket scuffed and worn from heavy use, and I could once more feel the creeping sensation of death getting closer.

My smile just grew more teeth.

The team split the moment he said go, and I made an effort to be as quiet as possible approaching Nikkei where she was hid in the brush.

“Pst! Hey, I think this might be a trick. You ever hear about two person Genin teams?”

She scowled at me and made little shooing motions.

“Jounin’s rules. Besides, he might be planning on taking the winners as apprentices.”

I gave her a skeptical look in return.

“Two at once? Aren’t apprenticeships usually on an individual basis?”

“You two talk too much.”

I activated a Replacement, but there was a fist already in position at my arrival point. Only a flicker of Sharingan saved me from a blow which would have knocked the wind out of me; as it was I barely managed to get my arms up in time to absorb some of the hit. I would likely have my share of bruises in the morning.

I gave Kakashi my flattest smile as I massaged the backs of my forearms, basically just showing him teeth. He’s a dog, he’ll figure it out.

“You’re a Jounin, _sensei_ , if you can't detect our chakra signatures from a hundred meters, I’ll eat my forehead protector. I certainly don’t know how to hide my chakra, and I don’t think my teammates do either. So stealth is irrelevant unless you deliberately handicap yourself. A proposition which seems unlikely, as you instructed us to come at you with intent to kill.”

Another flat stare. This is not good. I’m not sure what’s real, what I’m misreading, what I’m projecting, and what is merely comparison to a half-remembered future. Kakashi used to be lazy, not indifferent, an affectation of unconcern over a core of warm affability. The Kakashi of Team Seven was a little silly, a little carefree, a little more… secure. This Kakashi is…

I don’t know.

I know in canon this team didn’t pass. That begs the question of why Team Seven _did_ pass. They barely showed any teamwork. Nepotism? Firm instruction from the Hokage? A sense of camaraderie with that particular team: elite loner, ditzy girl, struggling deadlast that wants to be Hokage? Was success even _possible_ here, or was his judgment already passed, the weight of memory still too heavy on his shoulders for a new team?

I hadn’t been idle while I pondered. I had gotten in a few good… _attempted_ hits with Nikkei and Wasabi. But not both of them together. They seemed to believe, probably correctly, that their victory against _me_ was assured, however that just meant they were in competition with each other and I was only able to help one of them out at a time, alternating between them as best I could to help make openings and exploit their suicidal charges.

I caught my breath for a second near the edge of the clearing as I quickly scanned the treeline for my teammates, shoving aside the growing ache of chakra exhaustion. Wasabi was going to try another futile trap; useless, as fire element charged kunai aren’t any faster or less subtle than the ordinary sort. Nikkei was being overly direct again; she trusted her ninken, but the Inuzuka learn _pair_ tactics first, not groups. She overextended in her strike and another heavy sweeping kick was coming towards her back; she couldn’t really weather another bad hit like that.

The Substitution was sloppy, spur of the moment, and left me disoriented for long enough that I didn’t block the kick meant for Nikkei. I slammed into a tree on the side of the field hard enough I could feel my ribs creak and my breath was forced out in a woosh carrying with it a spray of blood from my busted lips.

The buzzer rang.

Kakashi stared at me for a long moment as I tried to get my breath back.

“Disappointing.”

 . . .

 I ended up tied to the stump, but honestly I needed it. I didn’t trust myself to stay upright without the ropes.

“You better not share any of your food with Hiroki, he’s being punished for being so reckless.”

Kakashi disappeared in a swirl of leaves, and the soon to be stillborn Squad 19 was left alone on the quiet training ground.

I stared vacantly at the obsidian memorial stone across the field, brain ticking over without direction.

At least my name would be recorded there, probably. I wasn’t a hundred percent on what the protocol was for ninja who died in the line of duty, but in their civilian capacity. Maybe. Probably not. It probably wouldn’t hurt too much, Itachi was very skilled, very fast; I’d never even notice the blow coming at this skill level, just walking along one day and…

I blinked and the sound of someone talking to me finally registered.

“Why did you do that?! I could have handled it! You’re just a kid, you got really hurt!”

I sighed apathetically and let my head thunk against the training post, eyes pointed at the yelling Inuzuka but unfocused.

“And? Age is irrelevant, only skill matters. I’m the least skilled member of the team. I should always be first in the line of fire to protect you and Wasabi.”

The aforementioned boy grimaced as his name came up, mouth pulling down at the corners in sour disagreement.

“Don’t be stupid. You’re _eight_ , you graduated four years early, you’re a prodigy.”

I shook my head slowly, eyes still focused on the future and the swirling red and black that would herald the end of Hiroki. My reply was monotone.

“No. I checked the exam results. I scored in the bottom 5 for our class. Yeah, I graduated, but my overall skill level is lower than either of yours. That’s how they balance the teams: Rookie of the year, Kunoichi of the year, Deadlast. Me. Graduating early means you are skilled for your age, not that your absolute ability is actually notable when compared to others.”

“Shut _up_!”

I didn’t respond as Nikkei got up in my face, the sound of screams echoing in my ears as I turned my thoughts on mother, her face covered in blood and eyes blank pits. Dead. All dead, futile effort, spitting into the wind...

“That’s not true and you know it! You graduated before most kids even start playing with kunai, you deserve that headband! When sensei gets back we’ll get that stupid bell!”

The bento was thrust into my face and I blinked uncomprehendingly at it. She jiggled it imperatively at me as I continued to stare apathetically at the steaming rice. Wasabi scowled and moved up to offer me some of his as well, spearing a dumpling on a chopstick and pushing it towards my face.

“You need to eat if you’re going to be any use. You’ve been running yourself ragged helping both of us out this whole time and you’ve already got less stamina, you need the energy more than we do.”

I couldn't help it. My face fell a little as the despair began to well up beyond my strained ability to control.

“You’ll get in trouble.”

Nikkei snorted contemptuously, head flicking to the side.

“If that asshole wants to fail us for trying to take care of our teammate then he can suck it. I’d rather be a Genin forever than a _jerk_ like him.”

Wasabi frowned at the wording, but nodded his own agreement with her statement.

There is a puff of chakra and Kakashi is present. He stares at us for a long moment in silence before something flickers through his eyes too fast for me to catch.

“You pass.”

No food ever tasted so sweet as the lunch I shared with my new team.

. . .

A/N: Nice and long, with a few lighter bits cause unrelieved tension is tiring. Having an adult brain is helpful, but even that won't fix a simple lack of aptitude or practice.


	6. Saturation 1.6

 July 6, 5 AK

 Every moment is precious.

This is my rule, my nindo, _my_ ‘Will of Fire’, burning bright to keep me fueled through the night, to keep me punching the log when I am exhausted, to keep me sprinting down the track till I can no longer put one foot in front of the other, to keep me focused when petty distractions like mere physical pain try to tear me off the path.

 Nikkei slumped to her butt a few steps away, panting like her dog. Wasabi placed his hands on his knees and bent over to catch his breath, heaving chest setting the soft creamy yellow of his overtunic fluttering. I paused for a moment to toss each of them a couple ripe cherries, popping a handful in my mouth before turning back to the training posts. I like cherries. Quick energy and a burst of flavor to keep me going.

 “You shouldn’t bend over like that, it limits airflow.”

 I offer the brief observation before starting my set. My strikes on the training post are light, almost taps, gentle nudgings even, but they fall as fast as I can push my noodle weak arms, and that is enough. Nikkei groans and lets herself topple onto her back.

 “Jeez Hiroki, don’t you ever slow down? You did it, you’re a Genin now, you can take a moment to chill.”

I do not pause in the kata, and my words slip out with every exhale as I maintain an even rhythm, heavier strikes serving to punctuate my rebuttal, tap tap tap goes the wood, tick tick tick goes the clock.

 “No, I can’t. I am still weak. Strength is life, Weakness is death. If I am dead, my team is dead. If my team is dead, the mission is failed. If we fail the mission, we fail the village. If we fail the village, the village dies, and everyone you have ever _known_ , everything you have ever _seen_ , everything you have ever _loved_ , burns. There is no such thing as ‘good enough’, only ‘as good as you can make it’.”

 Wasabi rolls his eyes with a heavy sigh, but stretches to a standing position and pulls a groaning Nikkei up by the hand to join me at the neighboring post.

 “You’re gonna go bald if you keep stressing out like that.”

 I take a moment to breathe and roll my creaking shoulders loose as he starts a kata and I flash him a wry smile before moving onto throwing practice.

 “Just wait till we get our first C-rank.”

 

.    .    .

 

 

We fall into our roles easily enough.

 Nikkei is close combat, our heavy hitter and frontline. Good stamina, strong strikes, capable of taking blows.

 Wasabi is more mid range, he gains a fair bit of skill with ninja wire under Kakashi’s tutelage and has a decent sized chakra reserve, enough for some simple fire Ninjutsu.

 I opt for speed, a support position. My Taijutsu relies heavily on the use of senbon thrown at extreme close range to actually do damage; death by a thousand pinpricks. I practice the Replacement until I can manage it with a single handsign and I accumulate as many minor Genjutsu as I can; little things to throw off depth perception or induce transient nausea, trips and traps for the unwary that my teammates can take advantage of, to attack or reposition.

 My reserves are small, so control is paramount; I practice every control exercise Kakashi knows, every thing I can think up, and everything I can beg or wheedle from any other ninja, even Uchiha. Sensei grudgingly gifts me a primer on basic Sealing which immediately becomes my most valuable possession, even though I am unlikely to benefit from it before making Chunin.

 The Sharingan is not an instant win button, especially now, with only a single tomoe lazily orbiting each pupil. I can copy anything I see easily enough, but being able to regurgitate a perfect replica of a fist strike or fireball is useless without the proper timing that comes with an actual understanding of the technique in question. This is a lesson Kakashi knows quite well, and which many Uchiha never bother to learn.

 “Your arms are too short.”

 I stop the new kata and fold my hands neatly, giving Kakashi a mild smile, aiming for polite but apparently missing the mark given the nearly unnoticeable pursing of his lips beneath the mask.

 “Is that something I could compensate for?”

 He shrugs ambivalently, glancing over at Nikkei and Wasabi’s practice spar to check their progress. Kenji is growing like a weed, and the little dog nips at Wasabi’s heels at just the right time to throw off his next block, earning the boy a painful fist to the gut.

 “Maybe. I could show you a little blade work, if you like. That’ll take practice too.”

 My teeth grind painfully behind my placid smile. Time, time, time, I don’t _have_ time.

 “Would it be possible to get at least enough understanding that using the style wouldn’t be detrimental? In a reasonable amount of time?”

 Sensei blinks at me, his absurd hair swaying as he nods his head slowly.

 “With the Sharingan to help… maybe. Hmm. Watch this.”

 He pulls out a tanto and, checking to see my eyes are on, flows through a few simple forms that should mesh reasonably well with the Taijutsu style I had just been practicing. I nod slowly as the images embed themselves indelibly into my memory.

 “Can I try?”

 My squadmates pause in their spar for a moment as I take the short sword from our instructor and emulate what Kakashi-sensei just showed me, Nikkei’s grumpy scowl growing more pronounced as I perfectly mimic the motions of our teacher. Albeit at a much reduced rate.

 The  center of my forehead creases slightly as I focus on the movements, not merely reproducing what I have seen, but battling an imaginary foe in my mind’s eye, feeling out the changes in momentum, the flow I would need in actual combat.

 Block, dodge, slash, deflect, and _stab_ -

 “No.”

 I reform my face into placidity as I hand my instructor back his blade with a nod and smile of thanks.

 “I don’t think that will work very well for me. The weight is throwing me off a bit, and my current style is focused around speed. Moving that much metal around is impractical unless I can build a lot more muscle mass.”

 The watching Inuzuka blinks in surprise, her ninken barking in amusement.

 “What? That was plenty fast, what’re you talking about?”

 I smile blandly at her.

 “I am a glass cannon; lots of damage, not much for defense. The Uchiha, particularly those with the Sharingan, are all about speed. We don’t _block_ hits, we dodge them. In principle we could use a hard style like the Strong Fist, but we don’t have the physical build for it. For the same amount of time invested I would see a much larger payout from speed training rather than strength and stamina training.”

 The team Kunoichi grumbles in confusion.

 “Isn’t the Sharingan supposed to make you super great at everything?”

 Wasabi snorts and rolls his eyes, running a hand over his head to wipe away some of the accumulated sweat.

 “Memorizing a jutsu isn’t nearly as important as knowing when to use it. Just because Hiroki can make the same moves doesn’t mean he can use them as well as someone who has practiced them and knows their strengths and weaknesses. Think; not every Uchiha uses all the techniques all the time.”

 I give my squad a slightly more genuine smile of agreement.

 “Just so. At best, the Sharingan is good for learning how to use a move quicker than traditional means. I get more out of practice, but I still need to practice. And having that many tools in your arsenal isn’t necessarily a good thing; more than one Uchiha has been killed trying to use a move they just stole and performed without thinking.”

 I rub gently at the itchy spot on the back of my hand and shrug apologetically.

 “Practice makes perfect, not a fancy bloodline.”

 And so we practice. We practice a _lot_.

 

.    .    .

 

Sometimes, very rarely, when I’m lying in a bathtub full of ice and silently cursing every deity I can think of after working myself to exhaustion, I think about maybe pulling back a little. Just a _little_. Maybe I don’t _need_ to study my fuinjutsu scrolls tonight, it won’t hurt to get 6 hours of sleep for once.

 Whenever I have these traitor thoughts I seek out Itachi, covertly, subtly, just to watch him move.

 Itachi is death. He is silent, because the grave is silent. He is cold, because the heat of life has fled from him. He is smooth as black ice, fast as a snapping rope, sudden as a crumbling ledge.

 He doesn’t practice in the any of the public training grounds anymore, a subtle mark of ANBU status, but his very presence radiates perfectly controlled lethality even in a civilian setting. Every movement _just_ so, not a single action wasted or without purpose. He is absolutely _harmless_ , and that, more than anything, is what fills me with exactly the right sort of near manic terror to keep pushing as hard as I possibly can no matter how many bruises, cuts, sprains, or very late nights I need to sacrifice to the altar of power.

 

Itachi is harmless, until he is not.

  

.    .    .

 

Passing a basic teamwork test is not the same as becoming fast friends forever. We work together out of a sense of camaraderie which I try to help along, with mixed success, by being as helpful and eager to please as I can. Without unduly irritating my team with excessive obsequiousness.

 But we aren’t _friends_ , and that might come back to bite us if allowed to continue.

 “Would you like to come over tonight for a team dinner?”

 I have timed my suggestion carefully, both for a window during which Father is unlikely to be home from a mission, and for a day when our training was slightly lighter than normal. Exhausted people want to go home and take a nap; tired and hungry people want free food and a little relaxation.

 Nikkei shrugs indifferently and grunts an affirmative, throwing another one of the peaches we are harvesting for today’s D-rank into the collection basket with expert accuracy.

 “Sure, why not?”

 Wasabi seems a bit more aware of possible repercussions, and glances quickly at the form of our Sensei, standing in the green shade a few yards away and flipping idly through a Bingo Book.

 “It wouldn’t be a problem, right?”

 I offer up a confident smile, which I do not quite feel, and nod.

 “Of course. Kakashi-sensei is a respected Jounin. I don’t think there will be any problems.”

 That is not _quite_ true. Kakashi has been given legal clearance to hold the Sharingan from the clan, but they aren’t happy about it. No one will try anything if he just comes by for an evening or two every once in awhile, but it might elicit some grumbling amongst the elders.

 To be perfectly honest, I consider that a bonus. Anything I can do to subtly snub the clan is another step towards keeping myself safe from the purge. Feeble though the attempt admittedly is.

 Everyone arrives, even Kakashi, though he is half an hour late. Mother is far too polite to comment on Nikkei’s somewhat careless speech and Wasabi’s occasional off-color joke, but I think they can pick up on the fact that it _is_ politeness that keeps her from commenting. The Uchiha haven’t quite mastered cutting politeness to the same degree as our distant cousins the Hyuuga (we make up for it in arrogance) but there is something about being improper around someone who you know won’t say anything that makes one uncomfortable.

 As my teammates begin slightly stilted small talk around the dinner table, I consider the problem of my clan anew. An Uchiha without clan backing has never happened before. Not even Itachi at his most overt, or Shisui’s undying cheerfulness have actually openly flouted protocol in that way. If I emancipated myself from the clan, moved out of the compound, got a new name…

 I don’t know what would happen. I don’t know if I would be _allowed_.

 My lip quirks in a mirthless grin before I reshape it into a proper smile at one of Wasabi’s milder jokes.

 Scratch that, I know exactly what would happen.

 Without the clan to raise a fuss about it, I would be quietly disappeared into ROOT, every trace of self erased through brutal conditioning, and sent to an early grave via suicide mission after suicide mission.

 Perhaps that is the dark truth every member of the Hyuuga Branch House knows, deep down. Better to suffer the tyranny of the Main House than god only knows what outside their protective umbrella.

 My shoulders slump, just a fraction of an inch as I take another bite of rice. It's a moot point, anyway; Genin get more legal rights, sure, but age is not entirely discounted. I need to be at least 12, or a Chunin, before I reach legal adulthood and can emancipate myself from my 'family'.

 “So, how are you liking D-ranks?”

 I blink at my mother, who is wearing a very slight smirk as she sips from the pale orange porcelain of her teacup, appreciating the break from morbid lines of thought and struck with the bizarre sensation every child has eventually when they realize their parents are people too.

 Mother used to be a ninja so she likely remembers her D-ranks with equal aggravation.

 Nikkei grumbled unhappily, arms folded into her lumpy tan jacket with a malcontented huff.

 “Boring! Picking fruit, painting fences, I want a real mission!”

 I smile cheerfully at her, thankful that her inexperience prevents her from reading my mood as accurately as mother often can.

 “Well, it pays pretty well, doesn’t it? And it’s supposed to give you more chances to hone your skills. Peach picking is easier when you can walk up trees, nee?”

 Kakashi nods approvingly, face solemn.

 “Enjoy it while it lasts kiddies. You’ll be going on real missions soon enough.”

  

.    .    .

 

Kakashi waits till the team has been together six weeks before getting us our first C-rank, a standard merchant escort job, three weeks out, 3 days back (ox drawn carts are _painfully_ slow compared to ninja), minimal chance of hostile contacts, at worst maybe a few bandits.

 I look myself over in the mirror carefully, ensuring I haven’t missed anything.

 Long sleeve, faded grey-green shirt (with a _normal_ collar), darker grey pants, black ninja sandals. I tried to find grey sandals too, but apparently those aren’t the current style in Konoha. A kunai pouch hangs from my right hip, filled mostly with senbon. Forehead protector mounted on black fabric tied tight across my brow, keeping my close cropped black hair out of the way. Tiny stress lines under my overlarge black eyes, and a chin just angular enough to avoid being called weak, but sadly removed from Itachi's bishounen looks. Pale skin, unblemished by exposure to the sun thanks to judicious application of sunblock, almost ghostly next to all the grey and black.

 Everything in order.

 I made a checklist of necessary supplies for each of us, and nag my teammates about it until they eventually fold and show me they packed everything. Particularly the medical supplies.

 “Hiroki, I promise, we’ll be okay. We probably won’t even see any bandits, it’s just going to be a long boring walk through western Land of Fire. You’re freaking out the clients, man.”

 I put my third riffle through the first aid kit on hold and glance over at the merchant caravan. Nobody is looking this way, and I give Nikkei a dour look.

 Wasabi snickers at my overly intent expression as I resume the check.

 “Why do you always take everything so seriously?”

 I think on my reply while neatly packing everything away, hands moving by themselves by dint of long practice, letting my mind and body do their own thing.

 “The following is purely hypothetical, and in no way indicates my views on reality, or should be taken in any way as having valuable informational content. Any replies should be formatted for maximum circuitousness, for reasons which may become apparent.”

 Bandages, antiseptic, staples, tape, styptic-

 “There exists the possibility, that one could imagine such an idea, as ‘narrative causality’. That everything happens for a reason, and that reason is to make life a good story. Some might postulate that life is a comedy, and thus that if we start out a simple, seemingly innocuous mission with a statement superficially similar to one such as ‘what could go wrong?’ an S-rank missing nin will attempt to kill us in a horrible and messy fashion. Conceivably, for similar reasons, an individual might be heard to exclaim ‘I have a bad feeling about this,’ whereupon he would be chided by his more confident teammates, brush off the sensation, and be stabbed to death that night while he slept. This would be more in line with a tragedy or drama, serving as a touchstone moment for said teammates as to the seriousness of the job they now find themselves in.”

 I sling my pack onto my back and face my surprised teammates.

 “Even discussion of concepts such as the aforementioned is no guarantee that events will not proceed in directions concomitant with the aforesaid. It is merely a good defence. It breaks the flow, you see.”

 Sensei’s hand rests on my head, giving my short hair a friendly ruffle.

 “Mah, Hiroki-kun, you worry too much. We’ll all be just fine.”

 I restrain the urge to flinch and close my eyes for a long breath.

 “Why must you hurt me this way sensei?”

 I can _feel_ him making that infuriating eye-smile as he replies.

 “It’s my job.”

  

.    .    .

 

The mission goes off without a hitch, but I don’t think I managed more than an hour of consecutive shuteye the entire month. The team shares a good laugh, and I lie, and promise I’ll worry less.

 

.    .    .

 

A/N: The nice thing about having already written all this is that I don't have to worry about disappointing chapter lengths; I can use the breaks as ultra-heavy periods. I'm trying to avoid using Japanese if unnecessary, but some terms don't have a good english equivalent or just sound better in nihongo. Bishounen, for those not in the know, means 'beautiful young man' and is a _thing_ in Japanese culture which refers to men who are good looking in a softer, more effeminate manner. Hiroki is pretty average in appearance for an Uchiha, but doesn't have particularly strong masculine features. Unhappy medium.


	7. Saturation 1.7

 Team dinners are still a thing, and after completing our second C-rank we feel the need for at least a little celebration. Nikkei’s turn has come around again, and I am already faltering as the evening progresses, skulking in the deep indigo shadows stretched across the face of the compound by the warm orange light of the sun as it finishes setting. The Inuzuka are the least formal clan in Konoha, and every time our team comes by it seems to dissolve into a party of one kind or another as relations who just happened to be nearby slowly accrete onto the proceedings like the drifts of shed fur which accumulate in the corners of the houses.

 One of Nikkei’s cousins is hitting on Kakashi, while he tries valiantly to ignore the other man’s advances. They seem to feel it only makes sense that the Dog _Summoner_ should be part of the Dog _Clan_ , but Kakashi is transparently disinterested. This is the third Inuzuka to try and chat him up, and I think it is starting to be viewed as a challenge as I can see a few more shoving each other for pride of place and giving the Jounin speculative looks.

 Nikkei is currently giving a younger sibling a fierce noogie, the upstart challenging her position as Beta in her little family unit getting a vigorous smack down. Her older brother is napping in a heap with his dog on the porch nearby, presenting a front of indifference while his slitted eyes observe the exchange with a calculating glint. It brings a twitch of smile to my face, a large enough motion that I notice the facade has drooped a little and I pull up my cheeks in my signature, highly realistic, grin.

 Smile, gotta smile, no one likes an antisocial weirdo.

 “You smell funny!”

 I blink at the little Inuzuka glaring at me from more than a foot down. He looks somewhat familiar, though that could be just the clan markings, bright red triangles on his chubby little cheeks. I smile a little weaker, slightly less sure of myself in the face of his scrutiny.

 “I’m… sorry? I’m Hiroki, Nikkei’s teammate.”

 The chibi grunts, lips pulling back slightly from his teeth. On an older Inuzuka that might be a concern, I’ve gotten that look from Nikkei before and it generally heralds no worse than a particularly intense spar, but on a kid that can’t be more than 6 it is just a little disconcerting.

 “I know who you are! Why’re you smiling?”

 Ahh, too many teeth. I modulate the expression, corners up but pearly whites safely concealed to stop presenting as a threat. It doesn’t work.

 “Hey! Don’t ignore me!”

 “Sorry. I… people like smiles? Usually? Uh...”

I back away half a step, but the pup pushes forward aggressively in response. Oh dear.

 “Hey!”

 Ahh, rescue. Thank goodness for the Inuzuka pack mentality.

 Wait… is that… Hana? Bugger.

 “Kiba! Who’s this? He bothering you?”

 Inuzuka Hana is around the same age as my teammates, which means she’s at least five years older than me. And, if I am remembering correctly, Itachi’s teammate. Maybe?

 My eyes dart back to Kiba, flickering on for a moment on instinct as I inspect the future clan head. Or was that Hana? Or did Kiba challenge...?

“Oy! Eyes off my little bro!”

I blink and perception fades.

“Apologies Hana-sama. I’m a little… twitchy sometimes. I didn’t mean to offend you or Kiba-sama.”

Her eyes narrow at the honorific, and I can’t help the tiny flinch as I realise the slip, but her lip remains uncurled for the moment as she eyes me up and down.

“You’re Nikkei’s teammate, yeah? What’s wrong with you? You sick or something?”

My shoulders hunch in slightly as I try to keep smiling, thoughts rushing to try and come up with a plausible sounding explanation. I’m not sure what the problem is; Nikkei never mentioned anything about a weird smell. Then again, she doesn’t have the sort of crazy good nose that I would expect from the main line of the family. What’s a better explanation than ‘I am going to be murdered in a few years’?

“Hey Hana!”

The Inuzuka’s attention is dragged away as Wasabi bustles up, a companionable arm thrown around my shoulders as he leans over me.

“I haven't seen you in years! How’re the triplets?”

I relax minutely as my teammate expertly diverts attention away from my discomfort and onto every Inuzuka’s favorite subject, affording me the opportunity to settle back into the more polite blankness I feel safe in. Eventually Nikkei comes over as well, giving Wasabi a quick look over my head before loudly announcing that dinner is ready.

“You okay?”

I suppress the twitch and merely smile cordially at Wasabi, who winces slightly at the expression. They’re getting to know me well enough to see through the mask; I’ll have to work harder. No one likes a party pooper, everything is fine.

“Of course! I guess I need to change my shampoo or something huh?”

My smile slips a little bit into something more open, and my gaze slides away uncomfortably at the implied admission of weakness.

“Thanks for the save.”

Wasabi gives me a pat on the back and a grin in return, pushing me towards the house from whence admittedly delicious smells are leaking.

“What are friends for?”

...friends?

 .    .    .

 

A/N: Yeah, the SI doesn't get magic perfect memory. Some stuff is big and easy to remember, but seriously, it's been nearly 9 years by this point, how much of canon can he be expected to recall accurately? Also, if you haven't picked up on it yet, AK means 'After Kyuubi' in the dating system. Some people use 'After Founding' but then the dates would all be af. :/


	8. Saturation 1.8

March  11, 6 AK

I stare at the dead bandit before me, my head slightly cocked and kunai still held in a firm grip  by the hand now hanging loosely by my side. He’s sort of handsome, in a rugged, dirty sort of way, I suppose; blue eyes and tanned skin and all. The wind in the trees is quiet, just a slight ruffling of the fresh spring leaves, new growth tinted almost teal by the bright Fire Country sun, and the smell of blood is faintly overshadowing the rather pleasant odor of recent rain that I had been enjoying for the last few days of travel. My eyes slide loosely over the camp, now still where before it had been a riot of activity, briefly catching on a cluster of small yellow flowers poking out from between a few bits of granite, now marked with a concealing splatter of muddy red.

Was that it?

The short knife in my hand has only a slight smearing of red over the matte black metal, and it taps against my thigh gently, leaving a small stain on the dark grey fabric of my pants as it continues in its absentminded oscillation. I expected, I don’t know, maybe a little fear from looking at a dead body. ‘Oh, that could be you, look out!’, but the whisper of terror is strangely absent. Perhaps I am too used to it to hear.

The bandit has stopped oozing while I ruminated, still staring in the general direction of my feet. There is a lot of blood in the human body but once your heart stops it doesn’t flow as freely. The pool spreading from the gaping wound in his neck isn’t growing anymore, already transitioning from verdant crimson to a dull and crusty brick-brown.

Everyone talked about first kills being big life changing events but… I wasn’t really feeling it. Was I in shock?

My free hand pushes inside my collar to press a pair of fingers against my pulse point. Pulling it back and extending the palm flat, fingers extended, confirms my findings. No trembling. Steady pulse. No symptoms of shock. Though I do seem to be having a little trouble looking away from his face, and my thoughts are slipping through my mind a trifle freely...

My lips purse in a small frown, my eyebrows pinching under my forehead protector.

“Hiroki.”

I turn smoothly on my heel to look at Kakashi, face twitching slightly as I abort the habitual smile response. Don’t smile after killing someone, weirdo.

“Yes, sensei?”

The Hatake looks me over slowly, his eye drifting for only a moment to the kunai held at my side, a flicker of something vaguely unhappy clouding his placidity for a moment before he reestablished eye contact.

“Are you alright?”

I consider the question carefully, teeth pulling gently on my lower lip.

“I… think so? I dunno. I sort of expected something a little more…”

I trail off, gaze tracking over the handful of other bandits scattered around the camp in various states of disassembly.

“It’s just, inside, we’re all just… It was so _easy_. Just a little _push_ and… no more person. Just spoiling meat.”

And it was easy. _Really_ easy. The Sharingan, even with only two tomoe in each eye, makes tracking movement effortless. So long as the enemy isn’t significantly faster than me I am practically invulnerable; I can simply permit the natural flow of events to bring the enemy to my blade.

“It’s alright. You did the right thing.”

My gazes snaps back to the Jounin and I blink, nonplussed, as he steers my train of thought to completely foreign tracks.

“I was following orders.”

Kakashi-sensei normally displays very little affect, but there is still a subtle difference between a guarded expression of assessment and one of blank incomprehension.

“What?”

My head tilts a bit to the other side as I consider my words, eyes tracking the arcing lines of splattered crimson across the meagre possessions of the outlaws as my attention wanders slightly.

“You said I did the right thing. I was following orders. Orders cannot be right or wrong, they just _are_. I serve Konoha; following orders is what I _do_. Saying I did something right or wrong would be like saying the sun was right or wrong. It _can’t_ be right or wrong, in fact those adjectives can’t even be logically applied. It would be like saying what I did was purple, or what I did was banana flavored. I suppose you could say it was the right thing in a… what do you call it… analogy? No; metaphorical. In a metaphorical way. Like, it was very efficiently done and being efficient is logically better than being inefficient so it was the ‘right’ thing to do.”

I bend down and finally wipe my kunai off on the ragged clothes of the bandit, face still drawn down slightly into a frown. I glance back up at Kakashi curiously.

“But I get the sense that isn’t what you meant.”

Kakashi is looking at me with a vestige of worry and more than a little exasperated concern.

“I was going to say something about how these were bad men who would have hurt other people if we didn’t stop them, but now… Hiroki, you know there are such things as orders which are morally wrong, right?”

Okay, I really don’t get where this is going anymore.

“Yes…?”

“Okay. _So_ , if an order is morally wrong, that makes the order wrong.”

I shake my head in negation.

“Only if you use morals as a defining factor. But we’re ninja. We are the textbook definition of amoral. Literally: devoid of moral consideration. There is virtually nothing we won’t do for pay; it is the entire reason we go on missions.”

I wave vaguely in the direction of the nearby corpses, the kunai glinting briefly in the anemic sun shining through the thin haze of smoke over the camp before I tuck it away in the pouch hanging on my hip. It’ll need a fresh coat of paint, I guess.

“Sometimes the mission comes with an objective that is morally praiseworthy, like killing bandits. Sometimes it’s strangling orphans. But I’m a ninja. I don’t care. I care about my team, and the village. They’re safe, so the world is correct. And I get paid.”

My teacher rubs his forehead in small circles, the backs of his armoured gloves reflecting the blue of the clear sky, his expression unhappy but no longer alarmed.

“We don’t take missions just for pay Hiroki.”

“Yes we do...? There is more than one kind of pay sensei. I get paid by fulfilling my duty to the village, by keeping my team safe, by lots of things.”

I can see that my answer is not quite satisfying to the Jounin, but I can’t quite figure out why. My breathing remains deep and even and my eyes stay wide and open as they track from point to point.

“Hiroki, what would you do if you were given an order to kill your teammates. Would you follow it?”

I am still feeling oddly distracted from the current situation, my thoughts not digging in as far as I would like in the stream of consciousness. It takes me a moment to arrange the ideas in a coherent order.

“No? My first loyalty is to Konoha. The Hokage is Konoha, but Konoha is not the Hokage. If the Hokage issued orders which were contrary to Konoha, then he is no longer part of Konoha. So we would replace the not-Konoha Hokage with a Konoha Hokage. A Konoha Hokage would not order the death of the Konoha members of my team. ...Unless they were traitors, I guess, in which case killing my team would be the Konoha thing to do. I think... I would act in the best interests of Konoha. Doing so will always be... correct.”

“Hiroki, you’re doing it again.”

I blink at a pallid and clammy faced Wasabi before glancing down at the spot where blood has begun seeping out of the back of my hand, immediately stilling my scratching fingers. I catch the thrown roll of bandages with a muttered thanks and bind up the minute abrasions.

Kakashi stares at me for a long moment before sighing and turning towards where Nikkei is faintly retching next to a pile of sick as her ninken noses at her comfortingly, my squadmate’s gaze fixed on her own freshly made corpse.

“Well at least you aren’t loud.”

 

.    .    .

 

Mother knew about the mission. I can tell the moment I walk in the front door and smell frying chicken. It shouldn’t come as a surprise; the village is actually pretty good about that sort of thing, on balance. Missions which are likely to come with some psychological aftershocks are something we can take time with, for now, during peacetime.

There _is_ something to be said for the more frenetic methods of desensitization, for throwing the pre-teens freshly admitted to the ninja force into the thick of it, for giving them no chance to fester or ruminate about the death. It’s the method I would have prefered, to be perfectly honest. I don’t like having time to myself to think about… uncomfortable topics. At any rate, if the ninja in question has a support system already in place the mission office almost always sends a note to give the parents or extended family or what-have-you a heads up to be extra supportive. It wouldn’t do to let the investment the village has made by training us go to waste with a psychological breakdown after our first proper mission.

I was expecting it, though. Honestly ‘investigate’ a bandit camp? As if a ninja ever just _looked_ at bandits.

The fried chicken is a rare treat, not something mother makes often, for the smell has a tendency to seep into nearly everything; the bed linens will all need to be changed tomorrow and the house aired out to get rid of the greasy odor. She only puts forth the extra effort for special occasions.

Well, I don’t mind anyway since I have the next two days on leave. Helping with the chores will be a chance to be with mom for a bit longer.

“Hiroki? Is that you?”

“Hey mom.”

Yuki pokes her head out of the kitchen, her lovely hair pulled back into a messy bun to keep it from trailing in the food. She wipes her hands off on a kitchen towel and swats a bit at the flour on her apron before pulling me into a tight hug.

“How’s my little ninja?”

I can’t help the fondly exasperated smile at her words. I’m still pretty tiny; she gets a free pass for now. The thought pushes my mind to thinking of the future, and the realization that I’ll probably never be old enough to tease her back about calling me little while she’s alive. I gasp silently and pull her into an even tighter hug, holding back the tears which threaten to slip my control.

Mother has always been almost psychic about my mood, much to my confoundment, and to her my distress is transparent. She starts rubbing soothing circles into my back and rocking me slightly back and forth.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetie. I know it’s scary having to hurt someone. It’s okay Hiroki. ”

I pull in a shaking breath, thankful for her misattribution of my distress to my recent mission rather than thoughts of my own mortality, and hers.

“I know mom. I know. I’m okay. It’s just- It was so easy. It was so small. And we’re all just, fragile things, like glass walking around, and one sharp tap is all it takes and- I’d never see you again.”

“Oh sweetie, I’ll always be here for you. Even if something happened, I’ll _always_ be here for you. Even if you can’t see me I’m still watching over you, and I always will be.”

I force a smile, keeping the glimmer of tears at bay, but I know the horrible truth and I mouth it silently into her hair as she picks me up and carries me into the kitchen.

_No, you won’t._

 

.    .    .

 

A/N: First level sharingan gives photographic memory. Second level heightens perception and reflexes for limited predictive powers. Third level allows _virtual_ precognition via hyper-accurate body language reading. Skilled users can cast genjutsu via eye-contact. There are no straight roads to power.


	9. Saturation 1.9

Feb 22, 7 AK

Our first Chunin exam finally comes. Kakashi is not pressuring us to advance for we have no direct competition and nothing to prove to the other villages. He has waited a full year to even bring the matter to our attention, and even then we decide to wait for the one after next to give us more time to prepare. This is doubly good because it means the exam is in Suna, our one real ally amongst the Hidden Villages, for as much as that is worth.

Kakashi is careful with us, his first team. He asks us what we think we need to achieve in order to be qualified for Chunin, and pushes us till we meet those goals. The pressure is more than welcome for the growth it brings.

It is not the end all and be all for me to pass, but I am looking forward to it with a sort of coiled anticipation in my gut as it would push me one step closer to Itachi’s record. In the back of my mind is the half formed expectation that we _will_ succeed on our first try, for my team is quite strong and we have all made significant strides. It might even be the new trend, my pessimism ensuring success, somehow. Facing challenges, difficult, seemingly insurmountable, and then victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. Fitting, though the thought is quickly crushed as a traitorous seed of weakness. Even if it was true I wouldn’t dare to think it lest my confidence prove its undoing.

However the promotion would serve a very important purpose for with a rank of Chunin I will gain access to higher rank jutsu. I still need to grow, still need time to master what I have already, for I am not a prodigy like Itachi, but I may not have that time and it may be that having even a single high rank technique partially mastered may be the difference between life and death.

I will not die. I must be strong.

.    .    .

 

The first test was too easy. The answers were hidden in the etchings along the ceiling, with a few decoy test takers in the audience to cheat off of. Child’s play for an Uchiha. Though maybe I’m biased. It’s making me twitchy.

I scrutinize the competition from my position partially shielded by my teammates. Nikkei and Wasabi have both started into their growth spurts and now rather tower over me, giving my comparatively tiny body plenty of room to hide and quietly observe the new testing area from within the tepid comfort of their shade.

Hot, hot, hot, how I hate the heat, and the dull dusty brown expanse of the desert. The wind kicked up a few times on the way here, howling across the expanse of sand and rubbing exposed skin raw with airborne grit. The test area has a few rocky outcroppings visible in the distance, precious shelter from the heat and the wind. My gaze flits over the other competitors, cataloguing the various idiosyncrasies visible in the spectrum of primarily brown and white and tan clad Genin.

The exams in Suna are less well attended than in other countries; they might not be known for being hostile to foreigners in the same way Kiri, Kumo, and Iwa are, but simply getting to the Hidden Village is a three day hike across open desert.

The other teams are a pretty even mix of kids in their midteens. I am the youngest person here by a wide margin, though there are a few teams of Genin from Suna that look barely out of the academy. A few singletons too, which was a surprise, though one I should have expected. Konoha is big on teamwork, and other nations acknowledge its use too, but not to nearly the same extent. The biggest advantage of the Leaf has always been its larger population, meaning we generally field fewer active units but can complete missions faster and with a higher success rate than a village like Sand.

“Each unit will be given a token!”

My eyes snap to the proctor and flicker on for a moment to catalogue his appearance and mannerisms.

“Your unit will need three tokens to pass on to the next round! This is the survival portion kiddies; you’re going to be out in the desert, and if you screw up, there’s a good chance you’ll die. If you do decide to forfeit-”

His sharp eyes seem to focus on the younger participants preferentially and I return his gaze with an impassive smile-

“Set off one of these flares! We’ll come get you. Lethal force is permitted, but not encouraged.”

Hmm. Sensible. So far as I know there isn’t much riding on this exam. Suna wants to make a good showing in the finals of course, to attract more business since there has already been whispers that their Daimyo is becoming less generous, but I don’t recognize any important figures in the current pool of competitors. No known clan heirs or last wielders of legendary bloodlines. It’s actually possible that our team is the most important one here, simply by virtue of having an Uchiha and being students of Hatake Kakashi. What an odd thought.

I accept the small wooden disc from the proctor with a silent nod of thanks before slinging my pack over my shoulder. A loose clasp rattles slightly before I hook it shut again, a little sleight of hand hopefully fooling anyone watching into thinking I put the token inside when I actually store it in the seal tag stuck to my chest. It is a double bluff, an attempt to look clumsy at something easy so they’ll not only look in the wrong place, but underestimate our skills. Or at least _my_ skills.

_No_ , don’t think that way.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. The Sharingan is not an instant win. The Sharingan is not an instant win. Lots of things can get past it, like puppets, of which I can see at least a few.

Don’t get cocky. Don’t get overconfident. Be prepared. Be calm. Be observant.

Our starting point is a fair distance away from the other competitors, but not so far that we wouldn’t be able to find the other teams in the expansive training environment. The rocks will likely be points of fierce, but brief, combat.

“Anyone nearby?”

Wasabi glances at Nikkei for confirmation and she and Kenji sniff the air diligently before she is forced to shrug in disgruntled uncertainty.

“I don’t smell anything close by, I don’t think. There’s… something. Oil, like on those puppets. But it isn’t fresh, and I can’t tell what direction.”

The other boy on the team frowns gently, chewing his lower lip in a small show of nerves.

“One of us needs to work on sensing after this. Your nose is great Nikkei, but it isn’t infallible.”

“I’ll make a note of it. We can talk to Kakashi-sensei after we’re through here. We can’t fix it now.”

Wasabi grunts in acknowledgement of my interjection as we begin to move across the dunes towards the nearest outcropping of stone, maybe a dozen kilometers away.

“Yeah. Well. Keep an eye on your canteens, but don’t skimp too much. Better to run out than dehydrate with water still to hand.”

I blink as he gives me a raised eyebrow and smile faintly before nodding in acceptance of his concern.

A little chakra helps the sand stick together beneath our feet and leaves less in the way of tracks, but it is still a hot and tiring slog across the sunny wastes to get to our target. The Sharingan is relatively energy efficient for the Uchiha, but my reserves are still small so it only turns on for a brief survey as we crest the top of every other dune. A sensible precaution, as I kill no less than three scorpions and a snake with senbon on the short journey.

“Are those safe to eat? I don’t wanna get poisoned.”

I flip the snake over to examine its markings as Kenji sniffs at the bugs.

“Should be. Better than _your_ cooking at any rate."

I give my grumbling kunoichi teammate a little smirk before bringing my attention back to the issue at hand, smile fading.

"I’m not sure about the scorpions. Snake will be fine though. Wasabi?”

A searing hot kunai cleans and cooks the meat simultaneously without the need of a campfire. It is only enough to stretch our rations though, and I pass around a few cereal bars pulled from my pack as we spend a moment regaining our strength in the shade; Nikkei breaks off a chunk and shares it with her partner alongside some careful sips from her canteen. The dessert is punishing, and I can already feel the beginnings of a sunburn on the exposed skin of my cheeks despite the judicious use of sunscreen.

The desert shimmers in the heat, waves of distortion from the rising hot air as the sun creeps lower towards the horizon. I stand to suggest we start moving only to stumble suddenly, my muscles tingling and trembling.

The transition to panic mode is immediate, but the rush of energy has me tripping over myself and falling to my knees, a burning sensation building in my gut. I can dimly hear the sound of my teammates retching and the noise sets me off in turn, my eyes searing in the flood of frantic energy. Poison, where, how, _stupid_ , not like this, I _will survive_ -

There. The cereal bars. With my eyes on I can see the little puncture marks on the packaging. Stupid, why didn’t I check?

“Well, that was a lot easier than I expected. Guess even Uchiha need experience.”

I push myself to my hands and knees for a moment before slumping back down as a lone figure pushes its way out from under the sand nearby. This isn’t right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, how it’s supposed to _end_ , I can’t die _here_ , I can’t die from _this_ , from _carelessness_ -

The Suna Kunoichi smirked under her veil and a scorpion puppet the size of a dog scuttles over to begin poking through our packs as Kenji snarls and tries to guard his mistress.

“Hmm. Hide it somewhere else? Tell you what, tell me where and I’ll give you the antidote.”

My face tightens into a fierce scowl before the sound of my teammates writhing in pain reaches me. I glance over at them as another spike of pain shoots from my stomach. I didn’t ingest as much, I _might_ be safe, I might be _less_ safe because of my body weight, it’s just a _stupid test_ -

“Here.”

Trembling fingers slide under my shirt to access the storage tag. The disc tumbles from my shaking hand to roll across the closely packed sand under the rock before it is snatched up by the scorpion puppet. The enemy ninja smirks again and flicks a small vial towards us, but her puppet turns towards me and clacks its claws menacingly.

“Now, what about those fancy eyes of yours?”

How _dare_ she, you can’t _have_ them, they are _mine_ , I _bled_ for them, no one can _take them from me_ -

My mouth spreads in a tooth baring sneer as I pull up my shirt enough to show off an explosive tag, eliciting a snort of amusement from the Kunoichi.

“Aww, I was just messing with you! Here, I’ll even call the proctors to come pick you up. No hard feelings, right? Ally?”

The glaring red light of the flare and the crimson smoke plume it sends up are barely noticed as I crawl towards my teammates, mind slipping in and out of focus as I give each of us only a few drops. After the ‘joke’ about stealing my eyes I cannot discard the possibility that this is another trap. Light footsteps on the sand catch my attention and my head swings round to see if a new threat has appeared.

The Sand-nin proctor raised a scornful eyebrow at our dishevelment before sneering ever so slightly.

“Squad 19 of Konoha, disqualified.”

 

.    .    .

 

I do not take failure well.

.    .    .

 

A/N: Small breaks from angst... ish? This story isn't terribly long you'll see, so even with a heavy tone it should not quite cross into unbearability.


	10. Saturation 1.10

 

Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk-

Why?

Why am I never quite good enough? Why must every perceived victory be turned to a narrow defeat? At best I manage to recover _eventually_ , by the skin of my teeth, and often due to circumstances I have no real control over. _Luck_.

THUNK, THUNK, THUNK-

I manage to get into the academy, but I only graduate because _Itachi_ activated my Sharingan. I get tutelage from Hatake himself, but only because my _teammates_ fed me and Kakashi was in the right mood. Never for anything _I_ did. Is this some moral lesson? Reality itself bending events so I acknowledge my own irrelevance, even in my own life?

CRUNK, CRACK, CRISH-

The log disintegrates and I scream at the splinters in impotent fury. Oh look at Hiroki, chakra control good enough to pull off a crude imitation of Tsunade’s strength technique. Very crude. _Pointlessly_ crude. It took too much concentration to be useful in combat, and the force was probably less than a fiftieth of what the Sannin could put out.

I slumped to my knees in the dirt and took heaving, gasping breaths in the wake of sudden exhaustion.

It was also ridiculously draining on my meagre chakra reserves, and the sudden drop in stamina is sending tiny black specs across my vision.

“Hey, Hiroki, it’s okay.”

I stand with a start and force my breathing even and calm, quickly turning to face Wasabi with a pleasant smile.

“Sorry. Just a little bit upset about failing. There’s always next time, right? I’m sure we’ll get promoted if we just work a little bit harder in training.”

Wasabi frowned, unswayed by my false good cheer.

“You don’t have to lie about it dude.”

My smile becomes stiff and angry. What does _he_ know about it? What does he know about _anything_? His clan isn’t going to be _exterminated_ in a little less than a year. He doesn’t have to scrape every iota of time he can out of every day to try and clutch the dangling rope that’s always _just_ out of reach as he sinks into the suffocating mud.

“I don’t know what you mean Wasabi-san. I’m sorry you felt I was being dishonest.”

He scowls at me, and the next moment I’m forced to flip out of the way of a crushing ax kick with a back handspring.

“Don’t fucking hide it! I know you were really hoping to get promoted.”

I drop the facade and hurl a barrage of senbon at his stupid _caring_ face.

“If you knew then you should have tried _harder_!”

He replaces himself with a log and retaliates with a few explosive kunai, the red-hot fragments of metal barely dodged in time with the aid of my doujutsu.

“We _are_ trying hard! Most Genin don’t pass their first Chunin exam, it was _bad luck_ , not _our_ fault!”

He dashes out of the underbrush and nails me in the gut with a hard right hook. I grab the hand and use it as leverage to flip myself up and drop a knee on his head, lips drawn back in a snarl at the hated word.

“I know that moron! I know we aren’t ready for Chunin. It doesn’t _matter_ though!”

Wasabi threw me off and spat a small fireball to force me to dodge.

“Of course it matters dumbass! If you knew we weren’t ready why did you even _want_ us to go?”

I slip past the gout of flame and tag my teammate with a Genjutsu, allowing me time to get into range and drive a hard knee right into his stomach.

“Because what I _want_ doesn’t matter! I need to be stronger!”

He catches my next punch and slides me into a hold, pinning me to the ground.

“You think getting a promotion is going to make you stronger?!”

I struggle futilely against the larger boy, feet kicking up dust as I stay pinned under his bulk

“ _Yes_! No! I don’t know! It would be better than _this_!”

He shoves me back down and leans in, bring his face close to mine.

“What, being held back by your looser teammates who can’t keep up with the prodigy?”

“No! Being _weak_! You don’t fucking get it!”

He throws himself off of me and steps back.

“Then _help_ me understand.”

I stand, furious and terrified by how easily I was beaten.

“If you died, your family would _care_! Mine would just say ‘guess he wasn’t as good as Itachi’. You know what weak Uchiha are? Organ donors! Meat for the first person stronger than me that needs some new eyes! _Strength_ is Life, _Weakness_ is Death! I’m _weak_ , so I’ll be fucking _dead_!”

I am panting and trembling and ashamed of my outburst and admission. Wasabi is staring at me with a sickening mixture of horror and concern etched on his face.

“You should have told us then! We could have helped you!”

I laugh hysterically at the absurdity of his statement, hands clutching at my head.

“What? What could _you_ do? You think there’s something that could _stop_ me being rendered for spare parts? You don’t have a bloodline, you don’t _get_ _it_. There isn’t anything _you_ can do, there isn’t anything the _Hokage_ could do, even if he cared about some random Uchiha. Because it’s a ‘clan matter’ and I can’t fucking _opt out_ of my _birth_ now can I?”

Tears are falling unbidden and I turn away from Wasabi to try and hide the vulnerability. This is an inexcusable breach in the facade of affability. How can I fix this? Play it off as a joke? Make up some cathartic revelation?

“You don’t _know_ that. You’re just _afraid_ of it. If you don’t tell us about your problems then we can’t help you _solve_ them. If being stronger is so important to you, then we’ll help you achieve that dream…”

He trails off suddenly and I think we are both remembering the first team meeting when I said I dreamed of surviving to my twelfth birthday.

“...This- this is why you’re always pushing so hard, isn’t it? Because if you aren’t strong enough you’ll be killed for your eyes?”

I scoff through the tears and running nose at the meagre humor of it all.

“ _Now_ he gets it. What, did you think I _liked_ pulling 18 hour days on the training fields?”

His hand is on my shoulder and he spins me around, mouth set in a determined frown. I rub ineffectually at my sticky face and avoid eye contact.

“Hiroki, we’re not gonna let someone kill you for your eyes. Not me, not Nikkei, not Kakashi-sensei. If you need to be stronger, we’ll help you. You just have to have a little faith in your team, and trust us to have your back.”

My face breaks and I throw myself  around him in a hug.

“I’m so scared. I don’t want to die, but I’m not strong enough.”

He returns the gesture, fierce and protective and unpitying.

“You don’t need to always stand on your own, rely on your own strength. We’re your team. I promise we’ll always be here for you.”

But that isn’t his promise to keep, now is it?

.    .    .

 After the incident with Wasabi, I try to be more open, but it is a growing struggle to maintain the veneer of good cheer. I am growing, I _am_ , I can _feel_ it, I can _measure_ it in my achievements. My three favorite Genjutsu can now all be cast by eye contact alone, the blessing of my bloodline.

I am _exceedingly_ fast, fast enough that I can hit two pressure points on both of my teammates with a senbon before they have time to react whenever we have free-for-all sparring matches.

My tentative forays into medical techniques are paying only small dividends, for I focus most of my energy on combat, but I could probably stitch a finger back on well enough that it wouldn’t go bad in an emergency. That’s about the best I can hope for without actually pursuing the Iryonin path and going to the hospital for more training. Sealing is still difficult, but I have learned just enough that Sensei trusts me with a few of the slightly more advanced formulas.

It is not enough.

I am nowhere near being able to scratch Kakashi, even when I pull out every trick I know, even when I push my body to the very limits of what it can endure. He never even has to unveil his Sharingan, and his single eye regards me with an intent weight when I hurl myself body and soul into the practice spars, judging me, curious perhaps as to why exactly I am so set on beating him.

I don’t seek to _beat_ him though. Not at all. That is as far beyond me as the moon, with its fucking aliens for some reason. Or alien human hybrids? What even are Kaguya’s kids? Did she actually bone a human? _Why_? And who was Asura and Indra’s mom? Did they just reproduce asexually?

I find my thoughts tend to go weird places now that everything I scraped and screamed for has come true AND IT’S STILL NOT ENOUGH.

I need a new plan. There was a window, a brief time, when I might have been able to attain the legendary strength, the prophecy of 'prodigy' made real, echoes of an adult mind forcing a child's body beyond what others could hope to match, strength enough to force Itachi to _listen_ , to make him _stop_ , to grant me leniency.

That window has closed. Perhaps it might be opened again, possibly, implausibly, but maybe. But I can't cling to that hope, that delusion, that dream of being someone who _mattered_. But what other options do I have?

I have accomplished _just_ too much to fade into obscurity, even if my achievements of late have been more lacking; too many people would wonder, too many would question, if Hiroki disappeared, ran away, slid out of view.

The coup is not yet more than a thought, a disgruntled rumble echoing between the elders and slowly gaining weight through force of repetition. But as it stands, I don't think it likely my words would carry to ears that matter. _Itachi_ has that fire, that immediacy, the adoration of the masses as he strides in glorious perfection through life- maybe if _I_ was _just a little_ -

No. No more self-sufficiency. I need to rely on my team.

Itachi is crossing the street as I sit and eat dango with my squad, for rest is necessary sometimes and teams don't maintain themselves, and a tiny Sasuke is in tow, smiling up at his beloved nii-sama. I focus intently on Itachi’s sandaled feet, inspecting the positioning of each step as time briefly crawls to a near halt. Every footfall of my superior is a drumbeat in my head, the thunderous ticking of the clock of destiny, the hissing of sand in the hourglass. Oh terror, I have missed you so.

_Can you feel it on your neck?_

It whispers to me in the swish of the shop’s blue fabric door as another customer enters, moments flowing like molasses in the flood of panicked neurotransmitters.

_It’s there, already, can't you **feel** it? Can you **smell** the oil on the blade that will slit your throat? Can you **taste** the blood? So **much** of it in a human body, so **much** to lose, every single drop, flowing down your chest, your own heart turned against you, too little too late, because you are **weak**._

The dango skewer snaps in my hand, the last little green dumpling falling off the table to land in the dirt. The moment passes. Itachi walks on, gaze never wavering from the sole thing he cares for. Because I am weak, and so I am dead.

And who cares about the dead?

.    .    .

 

A/N: Yeah, kind of a lot of angst. Hopefully not _too_ much. I prefer the obsession and paranoia better myself.


	11. Saturation 1.11

May 12, 7 AK

My eyes track backwards over the caravan, Sharingan active for a moment as I compare the current setup to my memories from last night.

Has anything changed position? Any of the containers strangely heavier, or lighter? Any of the merchants moving differently, or talking to new people?

The group we are escorting is pretty large, nearly 30 people, and larger caravans occasionally try to exploit the Ninja escort by smuggling a bit of contraband. Besides which, this particular run is crossing through three countries; there is a large than average chance someone might attempt something… ill advised.

“Hiroki, you’re doing it again.”

I blink at Wasabi blankly, habitual smile temporarily forgotten as the gears of thought continue in their previous, unrelated thread. He rolls his eyes and punches my shoulder gently, the motion jarring my hands and bringing my attention back to slight sting in the back of my left hand, the skin raw and slightly bloody from the incessant scratching of my fingers.

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll fix that.”

My male teammate rolls his eyes again as my hand glows faintly green and the skin melts back into perfect health.

“Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any to give you your present.”

He reaches into his pack and pulls out a pair of flat metal strips, bits of leather dangling from them in odd places.

“I didn’t get you anything for your birthday, but I saw these at the market in Suna when we were there last week and… well. I think they might fit you pretty well.”

I turn the objects over in my hands, inspecting them with a critical eye. Forearm bracers. Hmm. I could use a bit more defense, but the extra weight-

“I know what you’re thinking. Try ‘em on.”

I pull them on, tightening the straps which have a bit of give still. Enough for a year or two of growth, if I’m lucky, so they won’t be useless too quickly, but my concerns about the extra weight still seem-

The bracers glow faintly blue for a moment and I can feel a tug on my chakra which startles me enough to activate my Sharingan again. I track the flow of energy as it fills the Seal array painted onto the back of the metal where it pressed against the skin. With sudden surprise, I notice the weight of the bracers fall away, and I try out a few quick strikes, noting the now trivial reduction in movement speed due to minor losses in flexibility.

My look of astonishment brings a smile to Wasabi’s face.

“Thought you might like that. The metal is one of those crazy alloys they make in Suna, supposed to be super strong or whatever, but I knew the weight on your hands would mess up your fighting style so I found someone to stick the gravity-Seals on them so they’d still work. The guy said the matrix was pretty flexible too, so if you wanted to add something on or experiment a little bit it would probably be safe. Just don’t break the things; they cost me two C-ranks. So we’d better win our next exam, ey? Get some of that mad Chunin pay.”

My mouth falls open and my brows furrow together. This is probably the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever gotten me, which is somewhat depressing. Mother is kind, but she gives me the gift of good food for an entire week around my birthday rather than material goods. Father is so oblivious to my preferences he actually got me a gunbai last year, hoping to encourage me in the use of the family jutsu perhaps, though anyone who had actually watched me practice could have told him I almost never used Ninjutsu anyway and hold the Grand Fire Ball in utter contempt.

For the first time in awhile, I really look at my teammate. There is a softness in his expression, camaraderie, affection, and a touch of something…

I think it is pity, but not… not the normal human sort. The pure kind, which carries no contempt, no judgment, only compassion for another. The pity of a Saint, though we hardly qualify, with the number of kills we already have to our names even so young.

“Now you’ll have to stop scratching. And, maybe you could try to smile a little more again?”

“Wasabi, I… thank you.”

He offers me a quick half-hug before walking back towards his position at the front of the caravan and I start walking as well, the rumble of the carts a familiar background hum as I think, hands gently tracing over  the cool metal.

I allow myself too little introspection, I fear. Too little opportunity to externalize my point of view, too little chance to consider how the actions of others may affect me, and how I might affect them in turn.

Oh not in the obvious sense of course, the grosser forms of social push and pull, the balance of obligation and duty which drives society; _that_ I can read, when I try. I understand that other people have their own internal monologues, their own opinions and thoughts, but most of the time this only matters to me inasmuch as I can use it to make them do what I want, coerce or pressure or cajole a response from them.

I am the primary actor, the focal agent, the protagonist who drives The Plot by the Things I Do. A silly position to take, as I have already observed how little genuine control I have over events, even my own life, but one which it is all too easy to slip into.

But, truly, I am not alone. I am not… I am not _alone_. My team is there, and they care for me, genuinely.

I catch Nikkei’s eye briefly, and give her a quick smile, flashing my bracers to evoke a thumbs up in return. I glance at Kakashi-sensei’s back as his gaze sweeps over the forest, lazy affect spoiled by the warmth in his expression as his attention falls on Wasabi, talking for a moment to the lead cart driver.

My team is _there_ for me, they really are, not merely as automatons which can be pushed or pulled to offer me aid, but as as free agents who can help me because they want to as friends, and not just people who fight beside me.

Maybe... maybe, I can see what the village means by the Will of Fire. Maybe, just _maybe_ , there is room for hope.

.    .    .

 

Team Dinner at the Shimura household form a neat middle ground between the slightly awkward and stilted formality of events held in the Uchiha compound, and the overly feral and frantic feasts hosted by the Inuzuka. They don’t even really have a compound per se, more a collection of apartments and houses in a little cluster whose residents all wear baubles with the trademark gleam of chakra conductive metal. Ninja like to have weapons close to hand.

Truth be told, these are the only dinners that really feel like dinners. Even amongst the laidback Inuzuka, there is always an undercurrent of wariness, both from the constant shuffling for position inside the clan, and from the awareness that a single misstep could lead to a rather painful impromptu sparring session, perceived offense likely as not to be forgotten by the next time our visit rolled around but uncomfortable all the same.

As I sit comfortably at the table next to Wasabi and nibble on a sweet cookie, I can’t stop the faint tingle of longing welling in my chest, the faintest stirrings of a plan. If I can make Chunin, If I can leave the Uchiha... would the Shimura's take me? If I could make myself valuable enough... I could escape. I could leave behind the encroaching massacre, gain safety in distance.

What would it be like, to live without fear? To know your family’s love was truly unconditional; to be free from the weight of expectation?

I push down on the feeling, focusing instead on the vase of flowers sitting at one end of the table, buttery-orange narcissus and yellow freesia lending the room a pleasant warmth, before a laughing comment pulls my full attention back onto the conversation.

“-ou don’t have to listen to Hiroki’s awful jokes!”

My frown at Nikkei is a little closer to a pout than I would like, but I can’t really deny the assertion. I’ve been trying to improve my humor, but… well it’s hard. Most of what I find funny doesn’t really parse. Hmm. Maybe something more old fashioned?

“I can _too_ tell good jokes! Here: A man goes to the tailor and asks for some long underwear. The tailor says, ‘sure, how long do you want them?’ The man says, ‘about September to March’.”

I grin triumphantly at the Inuzuka girl, who stares flatly back before rolling her eyes and sighing in shame. My shoulders slump as I turn to check on Wasabi who is giving me a raised eyebrow and a look of skeptical amusement.

“Yeah, maybe don’t turn in your hitai-ate just yet man.”

My frown of sulky disappointment at last elicits a sharp snort of laughter from him, which is echoed by his parents, and eventually Nikkei. A small smile of pleasure steals briefly across my face, but fades as I notice Kakashi-sensei’s continued bland assessment. My eyes drop back down to the table as the conversation resumes, the mood kept cheerful, but I still feel like an outsider. I can feel something small and tense trying to relax slightly, but I can’t afford to embrace the feeling, can’t afford to risk in that way. But for a moment, a very brief moment, I let myself wish for life to be otherwise.

 

.    .    .

 

Our next Chunin exam is in Kiri.

.    .    .

 

A/N: F is for friends who do stuff together... have you ever noticed that italics can completely change the content of a sentence?


	12. Saturatio 1.12

Aug 22, 7 AK

I cannot get the bleeding to stop.

Wasabi is gasping up at me, and his eyes are terrified, and I am pushing all the gauze I have, all the extra bandages into the sucking wound in his chest, my hands glowing pale teal as I try to stop the gushing crimson-

I cannot get the bleeding to stop.

I’m not good enough and he is dieing under me in horror, a premonition of the future perhaps, my own fate laid out for me to see in exquisite detail as my eyes activate in instinctive response to the stress, jittering over every detail so that I will never forget this moment, sky grey, shadows blue, blood so red.

Please. I don’t want this. _Please_. Not Wasabi.

How? How can this be happening? We are strong, we aren’t weak, we should survive, we should all survive, we killed them, reckless, faceless Mist Genin, but one of them had some sort of mace or something and it hit Wasabi, and words are tumbling from my mouth unchecked as his face etches itself indelibly into my mind-

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t die, don’t die, I can fix this, I can, don’t leave me, I’m not weak, I can fix this, I’m sorry-”

Below me more blood burbles from Wasabi’s lips as he tries to form words, a stream of please, please, please, drowning under the searing crimson-

 

.    .    .

My eyes burn.

 

.    .    .

 

We cross the finish line, Nikkei and I, the heads of the enemy squad in a sack and Wasabi’s body sealed into a black banded scroll to be delivered back to his family in Konoha.

Her gaze is haunted, eyes nervous and filled with a desperate, exhausted anger, mirrored in her ninken’s matted fur and twitchy barking.

My eyes are empty; wide, flat, and staring, dried blood forming tear tracks on my cheeks.

 

.    .    .

 

Mist cares less about Squad performance, it so happens, than about how well individuals perform. 2 out of 3 surviving the second round is good enough for them. The finals arrive fast, only a day after the conclusion of the survival portion. Nikkei and I beat our first opponents in a good display of skill and forfeit out of the next battle, too fatigued in body and mind to continue any longer.

A good enough showing, especially after the loss of a teammate, that I now have a Chunin vest in my hands.

I cannot seem to stop myself from smiling, my eyes constantly repeating the terror on Wasabi’s face, and my mouth stretched tight in dissociative anguish.

I really am in hell.

.    .    .

A/N: Hands up, who _didn't_ see this coming? Recommend you check this post out on SB; got a picture of Hiroki's Mangekyou (and some other pretty great fan art). Fun fact: Nikkei means 'cinnamon'.


	13. Saturation 1.13

Sept 26, 7 AK

My mangekyou is possibly the weakest in history.

If I needed further evidence that the gods are deliberately spitting me, this is it.

My left eye allows me to share the vision of another person.

_Tenjin_.

If I can see their eyes I can tag them, and while I keep the technique active I see everything they do. I can only tag one person at a time, but the tags stay active for an extended period, and I can even swap targets based on people my original subject makes eye contact with. The chakra drain is quite manageable; even with only a tiny amount of practice I can sustain the effect for over an hour, though experiencing two points of view simultaneously is more than a little disorientating.

Perfect for infiltration. Exploitable in high level combat.

Utterly useless for me.

My right eye is marginally better. I can cast an unbreakable Genjutsu which makes _me_ appear to be an ally to the target, and makes _their_ allies look like enemies.

_Hachiman_.

Unfortunately, it is purely visual. No audio component and no mind affecting attributes, so it is likely that it would only give me a moment of surprise in most situations, or, again, allow superior infiltration attempts. Unfortunately, S-rank shinobi like Itachi don’t generally move in packs.

The names and knowledge of the techniques came to me in a dream and I think it must be fate, a part of the way the world is constructed, built into my eyes since birth.

I stare at the mirror, the needle like spines of my new eyes staring back at me, and I am not sure if the noise echoing in the bathroom is damned laughter or a horrified, panicked sob.

.    .    .

 

Nikkei came back to me after the funeral. The Shimuras weren’t interested in making a large production of the event, and merely offered solemn thanks to us for the retrieval of Wasabi’s body as we consigned his ashes to their own little spot in the gold-veined marble of the family crypt.

My former teammate was waiting for me outside the shrine, obviously uncomfortable with her mouth pulling at the jagged red fang marks, but also just as obviously determined to stick it out for my sake as her big brown dog snaps irritably at passersby, good temper destroyed along with his mistress’s.

“Hiroki, I-”

She cut off, face becoming pinched with unprocessed emotion.

“Here.”

She held out a small cardboard box to me, the lid slightly open. I took it gently and looked inside. A small black and white kitten peered up at me and mewed .

“It’s a Nekonin. Ninja cats aren’t really big in the Inuzuka, but we have lots of partner animals and sometimes a cat will pop up with developed chakra coils and… Well. You need something to hold onto.”

I looked down at the cat vacantly, mouth set in what a charitable person might consider a distant relative of a smile. Nikkei frowned at my non-expression, chewing her lower lip uncomfortably, her gaze shifting about in agitation.

“Well? You like cats right? This will give you something to, you know, keep your mind off of... things.”

She shifted again, newly acquired nerves evident, and I reached into the box, gingerly extracting the small cat. It batted at my fingers with a paw, but began to purr as I gently stroked its head. I blinked up at Nikkei and felt the smile grow marginally more genuine.

“Thank you. I... I haven’t taken care of a Nin-cat before. Is there anything I should know?”

Nikkei exhaled a little and smiled back with a tired expression, tension slightly eased.

“Not that much, no. He’ll get bigger, of course, and eat more than a normal cat while he’s growing. When he gets a bit older come by the compound and I can give you a book on tactics and junk. Just… take care of him, and yourself. Okay?”

I nod gently, my eyes still focused on the little bundle of fur in my arms as Nikkei leapt away.

“Your name will be Fovea,” I told the kitten, “for it is the center of the eye, the point of greatest visual acuity, and the point where the occluding layer of blood vessels retreats. Clarity, and focus, for that is what you will help me achieve.”

The cat yawned at me and blinked in acknowledgment. My eyes grew distant over my flat smile as I let my thoughts drift to the dwindling paths still open to me.

“It also means ‘Pit’.”

.    .    .

 

Squad 19 is no more. Wasabi is dead and Nikkei didn’t quite make the cut to Chunin, though clearing the second round opens her to field promotion.

My family hardly seems to notice that my new rank came at the expense of one of my only friends, too wrapped up in themselves and how good this makes the Uchiha look. Not quite as fast a promotion as Itachi, no, and no feelers from ANBU or any real prospects, but who cares? Chunin at ten! Marvel at the might of the Uchiha.

Mother, at least, is consoling. She helps me throw out all the green in my wardrobe and replace it with… other things. Grey. Grey is a safe color.

Conversation with Nikkei becomes more awkward, less flowing, as I try to maintain a cordiality I can no longer summon up. Wasabi was a grease, a pressure release. He wasn’t a prankster or a clown, but he could be relied upon to ease the social pressure with a sarcastic or cutting quip whenever the group dynamic strayed from equilibrium. It becomes more difficult to find the time to talk when every second is ever more precious and my investments pay ever smaller dividends.

Kakashi is useless. With one student dead and the other promoted out from under him he retreats back into the faceless mass of porcelain masked ANBU without a backward glance, fears of the outside world confirmed once again. Nikkei is upset by the growing distance, but her training will continue with her clan. My own family has nothing new to offer, or nothing that interests me. What good is a fireball the size of a house if my reserves mean I can only use it once a week?

The steam of my tea swirls gently, sweet dumplings laying neglected to one side as I try to assess the practicality of... any other plan than simply 'beg', now that the little spark of potential adoption has been thoroughly snuffed out by Wasabi's death. No clan would touch me.

Summons require too much chakra. My reserves have been growing too slowly; perhaps in a year or two I might be able but for now Reverse Summoning myself would be almost suicidal. If the exhaustion didn't kill me the Summons might; the success rate is less than one in five. (I tried it anyway. I didn't wake up for two days.)

I could run away, far away from the village, where Itachi and Obito would never find me- but no. I am a Chunin. I have the Sharingan. Stealth has never been a strong point for me, and while my speed is respectable I don't have the stamina to keep up such a breakneck pace for days at a time. The Hunter-nin would have my corpse in a scroll within a week.

The delicate porcelain cup turns between my hands as I attempt to read omens in the tea leaves. -Maybe if I castrated myself before I left? If they didn't fear that someone else might breed a new crop of Uchiha outside of the village... no. Still a Chunin. Still have my eyes. If I cut out my eyes, I might as well be a sitting duck. No Uchiha has _ever_ managed blind-fighting, our brains are too wired for visual input.

Traitors are never trusted, not really. If I fled to Kumo, ever hungry for doujutsu, they'd be like as not to lobotomize me. You don't need higher brain function to breed.

Maybe, the Hokage might-

My train of thought skids to a halt as Itachi brushes past the door, his body language radiating calm indifference. He doesn't even glance in my direction, and why should he? I have never had the charisma, the magnetism, the sheer physical presence one would look for in... anybody important. My shoulders slump, tension leaving with the same sad wheeze you would get from an old balloon springing a hole as I make my way out of the tea shop, snack forgotten.

No. The Hokage has his favored Uchiha. He doesn't need another.

Itachi doesn't notice me. (Would he even care if he did?)

I take on several missions with temporary squads which lead me away from the village and the clan’s growing murmurs of malcontent. We are polite, professional, but no new bonds form. Something about my smiles seems to have malfunctioned, and I don’t quite possess the knack for dissembling that I once did.

I have at best a handful of people willing to teach me any of the more common ninja arts, and the library has only a few scrolls on jutsu which are of any use to me at all. Tensions between the Uchiha and the rest of the village are high already, and I come bundled with the stigma of having lost a teammate and not had the decency to die myself. Konoha feels that teams should stick together, you see.

The only person I am able to make even a tenuous connection to is Anko. The purple-haired tokubetsu Jounin has trouble socializing as well, and though she has no special love for the Uchiha she is willing to teach me a little about poisons in exchange for dango. It pairs well with my speed and senbon.

The one real prospect for any sort of advancement is the Medic-corps, more than willing to take in a Chunin with good chakra control and some basic knowledge, despite his ‘unfortunate’ background. The snide looks I get from some of the clan Elders at such a ‘weak’ option is a pathetic balance against the awareness that medical techniques don’t gain offensive applications until nearly Jounin level.

If there is one saving grace to the move, it is that no Uchiha has pursued the Iryo-nin path in decades, too complacent in their frontline positions. I notice a few thoughtful looks from Jounin I don’t know, the members of other clans. It is a small piece of gossip exchanged over tea by those who have grown tired of Uchiha snubs.

It won’t be enough.

When I look at the Uchiha around me, I no longer see people, not even corpses of people. They are scenery, now, painted onto the background of the world in dusty primary colors, projections on the screen of life. I can’t touch them, any more than I can touch light, or shadow. I can’t effect them, so they might as well not be there. And I know I am one of them, fading into the backdrop, too little done to make me standout from the crowd.

It is worse to look at other ninja because they are _real_ , large as life and in three glorious dimensions, but as far as I am concerned they might as well be puppets. I would call them Non Player Characters, but the reality is the reverse. I am the NPC, the body whose course can’t be swayed by their actions, the extra in the play of their lives, Uchiha #255, if you look close you can see the edge of my hand in the scene where Sasuke runs through the compound-

I consider going to the Hokage again, but I can’t imagine that anything of use will happen. I could fall to my knees and tell him everything, _everything_ , carve out my eyes and hand them over on a platter, prostrate myself before him in supplication, weeping from my empty sockets, and he would smile and nod and chuckle in that grandfatherly way and puff his pipe and say ‘Don’t forget to eat your vegetables kids! And always brush your teeth before bedtime!’. Just like I wasn’t even there.

(I eat _all_ the vegetables Hokage-sama, and I brush my teeth so hard they _bleed_. You’ll tell him, _won’t you_? You’ll tell _him_? _Please_ Hokage-sama, please-)

The only actor on this stage, the only thing that matters anymore, is Itachi, my doom in perfect monochrome. And I can’t touch him either. He is a void, a human shaped hole in the world, walking and talking and ever so hungry. Negative space, a region defined by its absence, the anti-person, you could throw someone at him and they would just get sucked away and annihilated, and that’s what we’re going to do you know, throw people at him, 426 Uchiha down the drain, from old-man Kitowaru with his one leg and his grumbles about the cold all the way down to little Suzuki, only a week old and the darling of her little circle of family-

I am not the main character of my own life. I have never had a choice to make. I exist to fill the background.

.    .    .

 

April 19, 8 AK

My eleventh birthday arrives, just as the whispers begin to circulate that Itachi is being considered for ANBU Captain to drown out those few about me. Too little, too late.

I meditate through the entire party, family I do not know come to boast about themselves while I eat chocolate cake in a corner, unmindful of crumbs on the brand-new cerulean kimono. If I did not focus so intently on being present anywhere other than here I would not be able to enjoy the cake which my mother worked so hard on, last few precious moments trickling away.

Is that a trace of vanilla? A little bit of cinnamon as well, quite delicious. I am not overly fond of cake, but this may very well be the last time I get a chance to enjoy it so I savor every moist mouthful, as I have tried to do with everything my mother prepares for me now that the hour grows ever more late.

I stare vacantly through the crowd at the picture of swooping swallows over the mantelpiece, admiring the lines of the calligraphy and the subtle play of color building form from simple strokes of tea-green and charcoal-grey.

Perhaps I should acquire my own apartment soon? It seems sort of pointless now but I am a legal adult, Chunin and all, even at only eleven. It might be worth it though, a way to signal my distance from the clan through physical means now I no longer have my team and no one cares about the medic thing anymore. There are subsidised housing complexes for shinobi, and I don’t have much to spend my money on anyway…

Oh, someone is talking to me.

“-done quite well Hiroki-kun. You’re old enough to start fulfilling your responsibilities to the clan. The next meeting is in a month, you shall attend.”

I stare at the fool trying to tempt me to my death, smile plastic and eyes dead, but the artificiality of the expression passes unnoted by the other Uchiha, strutting about in all their faded peacock lustre.

“Thank you for the offer, but I am afraid I must decline.”

The idiot, an uncle or cousin of some description, blusters pompously.

“Nonsense. It’s your duty, of course you’ll be there.”

I shake my head and stand smoothly, Wasabi’s gifted bracers flexing as I brush a few bits of cake from my lap and set the plate of half eaten confection on a nearby end table.

“I am afraid our definitions of that word differ. Which reminds me- Father?”

He is appraising me with an expression of slight embarrassment, lips pursed in disapproval and arms folded into the sleeves of his burnt-orange robe, distressed but unwilling to make a larger public scene.

“I was thinking I needed to start finding my own apartment now that I’m a Chunin.” I give the relative a sidelong glance. “It seems a bit silly to still be living with my parents for so long. I should start stretching my wings, as it were. You don’t mind, do you?”

His look is slightly apprehensive and unsure, obviously surprised by the dramatic topic change, and it occurs to me this may be the most we have spoken to each other in a year.

“Of course. Right. I… certainly.”

I nod acceptingly and slip swiftly through the crowd to my mother, going up on tiptoes to give her a kiss on the cheek as she gazes at me with a touch of hurt and sad, puzzled, concern.

“Thank you for the cake mother, it was wonderful.”

I slip out the door before anyone can raise a fuss, patting my leg to summon Fovea to follow me out.

A last act of defiance, I suppose; a final snub for the family who killed me. Such tiny, fragile things.

Too little, too late.

.    .    .

 

May 8, 8 AK

Uchiha Shisui was found dead.

All the sand in the hourglass has run out.

The clock had struck midnight.

Enter the Reaper.

.    .    .

A/N: There's no earthly way of knowing, which direction we are going. There's no knowing where we're rowing, or which way the river's flowing.


	14. Saturation 1.15

 

I sat, trembling, in my tiny apartment for longer than I care to admit after mother told me the news, mind a blank static haze as I struggled to process what it meant that the dread day had finally come.

I still visited Mother virtually every day I wasn’t away on a mission; I am only a mediocre cook so I had a good excuse. We could have an enjoyable and relaxing lunch together while father was distracted by ‘clan matters’, which mother less than subtly hinted I might wish to involve myself in, while I dissembled with admiring comments on how lovely her orchids are this year.

But now is the hour of our judgement, and I don’t believe I can possibly measure up.

I tie my forehead protector across my brow with hands steadied by despair and give my sleeping kitten a small stroke before I leap from the window; Kakashi should find my note soon enough. Fovea will be safe, at least.

I search, desperately, frantically, for Itachi, flitting over the terracotta roof tiles as my spiral takes me closer to the moonlit woods. There was no hope of besting him in combat, no possibility of escape, no chance of forgiveness. But maybe- maybe I had distanced myself enough from the clan? Maybe I had shown myself loyal to the village?

I… I had no impressive claims to my name, no grand gestures, no heart rending sacrifices, nothing solid that I could point to and say ‘See? I’m not like _them_ , I’m not that _way_ , I don’t _have_ to die’, but maybe I could- I could-

And then there he was, easy as winking, just standing in a little clearing in the woods surrounding the Uchiha compound, already dressed in his ANBU gear, mask conspicuous in its absence as the unreal brightness of the moon drew shadows sharp as knives.

I took a breath, trying to think of how to frame it, how to _phrase_ the argument so that I didn’t _need_ to be exterminated, extol my few virtues and make the faults less obvious, show myself _worthy_ , that I am _strong_ , that I deserve to _live_ -

He turned and his gaze locked with mine, the pinwheel of his mangekyou active and his face devoid of expression.

The breath whooshes from me like a physical blow and I fall to my knees. There is no argument. There is no debate. There is no supplication. Itachi is not something which can be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. He is not _present_ , he has no _substance_ , nothing to hold onto, no levers I can pull, no strings I can grasp at. He is the platonic representation of the cessation of consciousness, no more ‘human’ than gravity, or entropy itself. He might as well be a hologram, a projection, a discoloration of the air; arguments would not fall on deaf ears, _there are no ears to hear me_ , I would have more luck bartering with a television screen, and would have as much impact on the newscaster solemnly announcing the dropping of the atomic bomb, utter annihilation so that not one stone stands upon another, not one bone is left unshattered-

I am babbling, babbling my life away, words like leaves falling into a pond, circling the drain to nothingness as I say anything, anything I can think of as my hands shake so hard I cannot feel my fingers and my breathing comes in desperate terrified gulps.

“Please, I’ll do anything, I’ll watch over Sasuke, I’ll kill Danzo, I’ll kill Madara, I’ll give you my eyes, I’ll never leave the village, please, I’ll help you with-”

My throat clenches with a sudden gurgle and I cannot say the word ‘massacre’. Mother’s softly smiling face fills my mind, but instead of kind words and comfort she opens her mouth and blood pours out in a river, and I fall into prostration before him, before death, before god, the scales of judgment, mene mene tekel-

“Please- anything- scared- please- please- for the village- sorry- please- not weak- tried- sorry- so hard- please- please- please-”

I am cowering, huddled into a ball of despair with my hands on my head and the litany of my inadequacy stuttering forth in quavers between ever more frantic gasps for the air which will not come. I cannot hear anything but for the sound of my own terror, as even my mumbling fades to borderline inaudibility and the black spots at the edges of my vision began to grow.

“Go.”

I am moving before I even fully process his word, leaves and branches rushing past in a blur of tears and panic, moving as fast as I possibly can, to get as much distance from Itachi as possible heedless of any obstacles in my path as I throw myself headlong into the trees, pounding chakra searing in my lungs and legs as I push for yet greater speed. The air is cold against clammy skin, and where once I trusted the foliage of my home to keep me safe from any enemy, now the bleached grey towers are hiding places for every terror.

I do not _believe_ my luck. Truly; I am still certain that this is at best a Genjutsu, a last little kindness from Itachi in acknowledgment of my leal service to Konoha, a brief respite as I bleed out in the dirt of that clearing, a hallucination so I remain complacent. At worst he finds me so revolting in my pathetic grovelling that he wishes the pleasure of hunting me down at his leisure once he has finished with the rest.

Eventually I cannot make myself move anymore, legs numb and lungs burning, and I stumble against a tree and take trembling breaths as I clutch at the faded bark with nerveless fingers. There is a small sound in the clearing behind me, and my veins fill with ice again as I turn to see-

Too slow.

I barely complete the movement before the smooth metal slides through my neck, blocking my windpipe and neatly severing my spine, pinning me to the tree. It hardly even hurts, so sharp the blade, so quick the strike, I could almost believe I was imagining it but for the total numbness and my nervous system’s desultory attempt to parse a cleanly disconnected trunk into familiar sensation, arms unresponsive to my attempts to remove the tanto and cling for just a few more seconds to the sweetness of air.

My eyes roll maddly in their sockets looking for options, but I can’t escape from this. My jaw twitches soundlessly against the blade as I try to beg once more, mouth nearly forming words that would go unheeded even if audible, and I know it is too late. I cannot hear my heart, and I can smell something hot and sticky as it drips over my lips. Tsunade herself couldn’t save me if she was here.

The man in the swirling mask probably just wanted me to be facing him while I died, and I can taste the sneer in his voice as he begins to walk away, chill breeze rustling his black cloak in the wake of his passage.

“Pathetic.”

The balance tips. Fate is decided at last.

...Insufficient.

My skin is cold and grey consumes the edges my vision as my brain starts to die, thoughts still frantically spinning even though it is all far, far too late.

Should I have tried to get Kakashi as my sole instructor? Should I have been friendlier with my teammates? Could I have run more dangerous missions to show my devotion to the village? Could I have begged for amnesty from the Hokage? Was there _ever_ really anything I could have done?

I will never know the answers to these questions.

I die alone, with the taste of blood on my tongue and the sound of my jerking feet drumming against the trunk of the tree echoing through the grey, grey woods.

.    .    .

 

END SATURATION

.    .    .

 

A/N:

If you liked this fic, and want to keep it a perfect crystal of human anguish forevermore, I suggest leaving at this point. _Seriously_. LEAVE NOW. Maybe check out SB for some of the cool fanart and alternate endings to Saturation.


	15. Author's Note, End of Saturation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't read this if you thought the fic was perfect as is and don't want to sully the sublime nugget of human misery with any more words.

The story will continue. Part 2 is, at time of writing this note, essentially complete. I am making the final few tweaks, it has already been betaed by two different people, and it is, more or less, finished. I am going to get one more Beta to go through it, and then finish roughing out the Epilogue/Part 3 before posting Part 2. The titles of the arcs have meaning though, it should be noted; part 1 is 'Saturation' because that is what it is composed of. Part 2 is 'Contrast' because that is what it generates. Part 3 is 'Definition' because that is what it provides. Which is why I say, if you thought the picture painted by Part 1 was perfect just the way it was, leave now and forever hold that shining crystal of despair in your heart.

 

Cause part 2 is different, and if you _really_ liked part 1 you might not like part 2 _quite_ as much.


	16. Contrast 2.1

I blink, more surprised than anything as clarity returns. I am still tired, exhausted really, but I can feel my body again. I spend several long minutes just staring at the shifting leaves of the canopy above me, completely lost at the unexpected turn of events. The moon has shifted its position, the shadows falling at a new angle; perhaps an hour or two has passed, it seems.

 

Am I a ghost? That might not be so bad. I can watch everyone grow up, maybe poke things every once in awhile for fun. Can ghosts touch things?

...Probably not. Not properly, anyway, otherwise people would _know_ they exist and not merely wonder.

Where am I?

I am lying on the ground, but I can sit up easily enough. Dirt, detritus, dead leaves and sweet night air.

My body must have fallen off the tree eventually. Scavengers, most likely. I _was_ pretty far from the village; Obito only found me because fuck me, thats why.

I snort before breaking into a laugh of true relief. All this time I was so afraid of dying, but this isn’t so bad.

I rub at my face, trying to clear whatever is blocking my vision out of the way. I don’t feel anything on my left eye though; the eye is still there, I just can’t see anything.

Why does that seem important?

A chill breeze blows through the wood and I shiver, surprised by the cold.

It clicks.

Reality re-written.

_Izanagi_.

My hand drifts over my face and comes away wet with blood.

I can do nothing but stare at the unnecessarily red liquid staining my palm for a long moment.

I am still alive.

Hot tears of betrayal begin to fall down my cheeks.

It’s not fair. Dying wasn’t as bad as I had feared, it was _worse_. So much worse. The desperate, mad scramble for any possible lifeline going unanswered, the crushing weight of failure, the blinding, stabbing pain of unparalleled fear as my mind dissolved.

And now I’ll have to do it again.

I stand up and begin wandering back towards the compound as my thoughts follow the inexorable path laid out for me, face flat and expressionless beneath the drying tears.

Not just ‘again’. _Forever_.

I am still terrified of death, it seems. Dying is awful, yes, but death is still the ultimate unknowable horror. For the brief time I thought myself a spirit it seemed tolerable, but that was a lie. I don’t know what death will be like, so I must flee as hard as I can for as long as I can. And Izanagi will make that a _very_ long time. After all, there are replacement eyes in the compound, just sitting out, unattended.

I stand on shaky legs and as I begin to walk a twinge in my knee makes me pause, a sudden wave of dissociation sweeping over me as I reprocess my recent thoughts.

...Did- did I just _complain_ about near immortality?

 I pause, stock-still and breathing slightly heavily, staring at the hand still smeared with blood and bits of leaves and dirt.

 What _was_ that?

 I have been fleeing death for nearly a decade, every second bent towards that goal, gaining strength, a sensei, a team, a promotion, _these very eyes_ , and now, now I was lamenting that it would _hurt_?

 The sudden giggle burst out to wend and wind its way in delirious loops, whirling around the trees, my eye blinking on and off as I swept it over the world around me, _my_ world, the world I was _blessed_ with, with all its flaws and hardships, and yes, _opportunities_. I glance upward at the moon, almost full and bright as a spotlight in the deepest indigo sky, alabaster and _glorious_ as it shone down upon me in the little clearing to illuminate my smiling face.

 I was alive. I _survived_. Itachi passed me by, the god of death turned his gaze away, and it was only my madness, my weakness and irrationality, that led me straight to the Madara thing. I was blinded, by fear, by faith in a _story_ , by my own little walls, by simple pride.

 There had been so many routes to safety, hadn’t there? So many things I could have done, so many paths I could have taken, so many chances simply ignored as I rushed pellmell towards… the same fates as all the rest of the Uchiha. Indra’s curse must be stronger than I had thought.

 I start moving back towards the compound, a spring in my step and a song on my lips. Well, now that I had identified the problem, surely it would be easy enough to fix. After all, all that depression and fear was something the _old_ Hiroki did. He’s dead now.

  

.           .           .

 

 My father was home for once, probably preparing for the coup. I blink slowly at his corpse where it lies by the entryway before moving further into the house, an emotion I am not quite able to quantify prickling my thoughts like an epileptic sea urchin, all in shades of royal purple and soft, juicy carmine.

 My mother is still seated at the dinner table, her expression one of only mild surprise and alarm. They must have been enjoying some evening tea; father got up to answer the door and…

 Itachi is very fast.

 She is almost untouched, mother. Just a patch of crimson on the chest, a neat wound right through the heart from which her life’s blood poured. Dead before she knew what hit her. So beautiful, so _beautiful_ , with her silky, silky ink black hair and alabaster skin and that little wet spot, what’s black and white and _red all over_ -

 My mouth fills with the bile of an empty stomach and I spit it out in the corner, cheer fading as I pull a scalpel from my small medical pouch, humming to myself and ignoring the slight nausea.

 Be prepared, that’s the boy scout’s marching song...

 My medical jutsu is still weak, but the Sharingan is almost a living thing; it wants to be used and transplanting it is always easier than it should be, the chakra coils of the eye aiding the formation of new nerve connections and proper alignment of muscles.

 I keep my mind occupied with technicalities while I harvest my mother and father for parts, limbs steady from years of practice pretending _everything's okay_.

 I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family…

 One eye replaces my blinded left, now Mother really _can_ watch over me forever. Three eyes go into a thick tube of nutrient solution taken from my standard kit (never know when you’ll find someone with an interesting bloodline after all) and get sealed into an array tattooed on my chest. One of the few achievements I have managed with fuinjutsu, a Storage Seal which is stable on a substrate of skin, quite useful, like a pocket you can never take off, slowly building up an ecosystem of lint.

 I stand, mind unfocused, over my parents corpses for a long minute, gaze absent and the gears of thought disengaged to spin idly without the strain of reason. I laid them out in the living room, next to each other, nice and straight, still and lifeless…

 It might be nice to have confidence in the Pure World, but I really couldn’t say for sure if it was a pleasant place or not, never having been there myself. Maybe they’ll enjoy it. Maybe I’ll see them again. I hope not. The dead should stay that way, safe and static and unimportant, and I can stay alive, forever. Maybe it never even existed.

 For now, I have work to do.

  

.           .           .

  

That is how ANBU Boar finds me, in the small hours of the morning, tidying up great uncle Yajirobu’s body after pulling out his eyes, my face bloody, my clothes torn, and my eyes a little vacant and _far_ too wide. What a wonder the Sharingan is, for mine remembers _all_ of theirs. There are quite a few to process. Such a lovely family.

 “...nothing goes to waste, bless us oh lord and these thy gifts, terrible tragedy, you have your mother’s eyes, and your father’s, and your cousin’s, I’m sorry, we forgive you, we’re family, I wanna see you smile, smile, and we’re all in this together, forever and ever amen-”

 I blink twice at the masked ninja, eyes flickering on and off in the brief space between the double motion; click-click, and saved forever. I smile, quite pleasantly, for the first time in what seems like far too long, and give them a cordial wave before moving on to cousin Tetsuhide, just down the way.

 Boar decides, with some understandable trepidation, that I will be safer to transport unconscious.

  

.           .           .

  

When I come back to myself in the cells of the T and I department I am much more sedate, though perhaps not _quite_ rational. It feels like my thoughts are still spread thin, a little slippery perhaps, not quite soaking into my brain and a little bit stiff. It’s like ice skating! Weeee!

 I regard Ibiki placidly, face calm and expression politely blank, though the effect is somewhat spoiled by over-wide eyes and a cheerful, but still slightly plastic smile.

 He taps the table slowly with a single finger, and I fight the urge to twitch in time to the faint ding of the metal, smile fading slightly in the face of the burning waves of sound.

 “Uchiha Hiroki.”

 “Yes sir?”

 Be polite to the nice ninja, that’s what _good_ boys do.

 “What were you doing?”

 I blink slowly. Wasn’t it obvious?

 “Protecting my clan.”

 Ting, ting, ting-

 “From?”

 “Bloodline theft.”

 “I see.”

 Ting, ting, ting-

 “Where were you during the massacre?”

 “In the forest.”

 “Why were you in the forest?”

 “I was hiding.”

 My voice is fading a little, only marginally above a whisper now. I really don’t like this line of questioning, and suddenly it occurs to me: I was actually really bad at ice skating.

 “Who were you hiding from?”

 “Itachi-okamisama. Others.”

 “Others?”

 “I’m not supposed to say.”

 The finger pauses. Ibiki leans forward, eyes half-lidded and expression flat.

 “Oh, but I think you rather should.”

 My tongue slowly moistens my lips and I smile through the mild pain of growing cognitive dissonance. Oh Itachi, my blood for _you_ , my bone for _you_ , my breath and bile and _soul_ for you, I _promised_ , but-

 “It is a secret.”

 “I can keep secrets. You can tell me. I promise.”

 My smile grows a little bit less comfortable and the pressure of Ibiki’s presence pushes on me hard enough to elicit a faint whine of distress through clenched teeth. I am in the forest again, the orange swirled mask filled with contempt, my eyes jerking in their sockets. Do not speak his name, the devil can _hear you_ when you say his name, but Ibiki works for the village and I’m a _good_ ninja, I have to _answer his questions_ -

 “Hiroki, I need you to tell me. Who were you hiding from?”

 My mouth works a little but I can’t answer. I don’t know for sure. What should I say? He has so _many_ names, so many masks, and I don’t _know_ , I don’t remember, who is in charge or whether it matters-

 “I-I- the name, I’m not-, Oohh-, T-tt-, Mmmm-”

 My throat clenches uncomfortably and the high pitched noise of distress returns as I rock in my seat. I pause, breathing heavy, and try again.

 “Mmaahh- Mmmah-dddaaah-raaa-”

 I finally get the word out, throat convulsing hard enough I almost throw up. It’s not a lie though! I’m a loyal shinobi, Itachi _knew_ that, I don’t lie! Ibiki catches my darting gaze, no trace of what he is thinking on display as he holds me in place with pure presence.

 “ _Uchiha_ Madara? Isn’t he dead?”

 It is _funny_. So _funny_. The giggle that bubbles up is loud in the deep dark room and it echoes oddly in the shadowed corners, damp and heavy air of the underground moldering away at the noise until it suffocates.

 “That is not dead which can eternal lie, and in strange aeons even death may die.”

 The bandana-clad head tilts to the side. He’s so cool, so calm, so in control, such a _good_ ninja, I _want_ that, _I’m_ a good ninja too-

 “Is that a poem? I’ve never heard that one before. Where does it come from?”

 “Over hill, over dale. Everywhere. Nowhere. Doesn’t matter.”

 “Oh I disagree.”

 Ibiki is in my face, and for a brief moment my breathing accelerates again. I try smiling away the adrenalin, but it doesn’t quite work and it hurts my head. Ibiki won’t kill me. Itachi _let me go_. I am a loyal shinobi.

 “It matters very much, because more than four hundred people died tonight, and the only survivors are Itachi, Sasuke, and _you_ , and we found _you_ at the end of a trail of neatly laid out corpses with their eyes missing, singing to yourself and covered in blood. _You_ are the only one who might know what happened besides a traumatized little boy who hasn’t even started the academy yet. _You_ are a ninja of Konoha and I am your superior officer. So yes, it matters, and yes, you are going to tell me everything I want to know, or we are going to start having a very _different_ sort of conversation.”

 Back to easy questions, what a relief. My smile brightens, displaying pleasantly even and slightly bloody teeth. _Smile_ a little more, Smile a little _more_ , can’t you _smile_ a little bit more, don’t you _love_ me, Hiroki, Hiroki, HIROKI-

 “Oh, I died too.”

 He seems slightly surprised, barely a flicker of an eyelid, but it is telling.

 “I knew something was wrong. Itachi-okamisama had been growing distant. Sad, sad, sad, very sad. He disagreed with some recent policies introduced inside the clan you know. Nuhuh, didn't like them **one bit**. So, so, I went into the woods, fell to my knees, and begged him not to kill me. And! He let me go, because....”

 I’m still not sure exactly. But smiles are nice. My mouth is spread as wide as I can get it, cheeks aching from the strain, Happy, Happy, Happy, _taste_ that blood, _know_ you’re _alive_ , proof for all to see, it’s _okay_ Hiroki-

 “I’m a good ninja! So I ran, until I couldn’t run anymore; I think I got a little bit… ahh... but Mm- Mmm- the, the other one came and, and he didn’t _like_ that, so he stuck me real good and that was bad, not very nice **at all** , but it’s okay, now, because I _am_ strong, I _am_ , really, you _see_? I’m a _good_ ninja, I’m strong, I’m loyal, **I follow orders** , _Itachi let me go_! But, not the rest of, them. Bad, bad, bad ninja!”

 My breath starts to slow from the panicked quickness to something more even as Ibiki settles back into his chair, and my smile is crooked and strained as something starts to break a little, the ice under my feet cracking a bit. But it’s all okay. Don’t worry mother, I’ll carry a piece of you with me always, right here, over my heart, and in my eye socket-

 “So then I died. But I couldn’t just leave all those eyes unattended.”

 I let myself slump backwards in the chair, restraints making the position awkward and my eyes still open very very wide and focused on the ceiling as I relax every muscle in my body one by one in practiced series, face reacquiring a more pleasant smile as I reach a new equilibrium state. I sigh contentedly towards the gleaming lights above me, little spots of afterimage chasing each other across my retina as the unsourceable moisture starts to blur it all to a smear of blinding radiance.

.           .           .

 

A/N: And we're back. Yeah, first chapter is a bit angsty still, sorry about that, I pormise it gets better. This is why I like feedback from all of yall, arc 2 has certainly changed a fair bit from what I had to begin with, much less whinging and so on. Even a few bits that are deliberately funny (or attempt to be, you will be the judge of that).

 

Special thanks to Jackercracks, Tomb16 and Mother_Mine for their assistance with editing and general notes.

 

Ohh, not sure how to embed videos, so the song is Tubthumping by Chumbawumba

~I get knocked down, but I get up again, you ain't never gonna keep me down~


	17. Contrast 2.2

 

Yamanaka Inoichi settled into the chair across from Sarutobi Hiruzen, Sandaime Hokage of Konoha, and sighed tiredly, rubbing his temples with paired forefingers after a long night's work. Morino Ibiki, head of Torture and Interrogation and his partner, settled in the other chair, face characteristically grim. The office is dim, the doors shut and the blinds shuttered, the faint cerulean glow of Privacy Seals climbing over the exposed surfaces like calligraphic ivy.

The Hokage puffed gently on his pipe, face somber, but not betraying any inner turmoil.

“What are your findings on Uchiha Hiroki?”

Inoichi ran a hand through his hair, ruffling his pony tail and looking up at the ceiling for a moment.

“Complicated.” he shrugged and huffed out a sigh. “Simple. Like most people, really. Atypical, but within tolerances for an active duty shinobi. I’ve seen worse. Not a lot, but it happens sometimes.”

Ibiki scowled.

“What about what he said in his interview.”

The mindwalker shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

“Temporary mental break. Understandable given the circumstances.”

Hiruzen settled his pipe into its holder.

“Which are?”

Inoichi pursed his lips for a moment.

“I’m not sure if I have clearance to know.” He glanced over at Ibiki. “He wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t supposed to tell.”

Sarutobi’s expression grew harder.

“If this concerns what I believe it does, then I grant you permission to speak about it. It’s an S-rank secret, but you both have clearance for that level even if you wouldn’t normally be made aware of the information.”

The long ponytail bobbed acknowledgment.

“The Uchiha were planning a coup.”

Ibiki stiffened, only a tiny crease on his forehead betraying agitation, and the Hokage slumped slightly in his chair.

“Hiroki wasn’t involved at all, in fact I don’t believe he knew anything beyond the fact that the plan _existed_. He is determinedly distant from all of the Uchiha except his mother and he has been actively avoiding anything which might be related to the plot. It’s actually a little bit concerning how few interpersonal connections he has; we should probably assign him to a specific team to help him build more connections within the village, but that can wait. Itachi was acting under orders when he exterminated the clan, though again, Hiroki doesn’t know much more than that. If he disliked most of his clan, he avoided Itachi like the plague.”

Inoichi’s gaze wandered slightly as he got distracted.

“The reasons are… a bit odd. Hiroki has a pathological fear of death, and a clinical obsession with the accumulation of personal power.”

Ibiki frowned minutely, skin shifting to pull at his scars.

“You said he was within tolerances. We can’t have a potential traitor in the ranks. I assume there are extenuating factors?”

The blond nodded his head.

“A fair number, yes. Firstly, Hiroki has apparently been sublimating his fear of death into the drive for greater strength, and a sort of compulsive loyalty to the Leaf. While he is aware of the _concept_ of disobeying orders, he doesn’t really have a direct connection between that idea and his own behaviour; he would obey any order which wasn’t _explicitly_ suicidal virtually without question. Provided he believed the commander was acting in concert with the Village’s stated goals. It helps that he thinks the Will of Fire is magic.”

Hiruzen raised an eyebrow, a tiny, weary smile giving his face new crags.

“I don’t think I’ve heard that particular interpretation before.”

Inoichi smiled wryly in return, tired lines on his face momentarily easing.

“Right? Like I said, Atypical, but within tolerances. Hiroki thinks the Will of Fire is a potent auto-Genjutsu that guarantees eventual victory. He wouldn’t ever betray the village, because Konoha is the strongest village and they will eventually win, no matter the odds. Turning traitor would only earn our hostility. Not worth it.”

The Sandaime picked up his pipe and took a little pull, eyebrows ticking together slightly in concern.

“They? Our?”

Inoichi nodded again, a little sadly.

“Hiroki has some non-trivial dissociative issues. He doesn’t think of himself as being _part_ of the village, or that we might consider his wants or opinion important. We are a landslide he can run with to keep himself from being crushed, more or less. A Shinobi _from_ Konoha, not a Shinobi _of_ Konoha. It’s why he didn’t tell anybody about the coup; Konoha either wouldn’t care or would already know, and Hiroki would only draw attention to himself by speaking up. He believes _in_ the Will of Fire, but he doesn’t think he has it _himself_. He doesn’t even really understand it, or know _what_ it is, he just has confidence that it exists, that most of the ninja in Konoha have it to some extent, and that it makes us extremely powerful.”

Hiruzen blinked in surprise, shifting slightly straighter in his seat.

“How did _that_ happen? He attended the academy didn’t he?”

Ibiki grunted the affirmative.

“For a single year. Early admittance, early graduation. Just like Itachi.”

Inoichi shook his head.

“Hiroki is reasonably talented, but he isn’t a classical prodigy like Itachi. He graduated a year behind Itachi’s record, and that was after spending _all_ of his childhood training. Like I said, he’s obsessed with the accumulation of personal power, but he doesn’t seem to really have an endpoint in mind, or a concrete goal on what to use it for. It was something to do that would yield measurable results he could compare to Itachi, like a gauge in his head getting ever fuller until someday the needle would point to ‘safe’. Nearly all his logic chains terminate in ‘get stronger’ or ‘obey orders’ and it pushes out most other concerns; he memorized just enough history to pass the academy exams but there are some pretty large gaps in his knowledge about basic facts, like how long the Hokage have served. He spent that lecture practicing the leaf sticking exercise under the table.”

Inoichi frowned, gaze unfocused as he rubbed his chin, tracking across the grains in the wood shelves of scrolls behind the Hokage..

“That’s something I don’t fully understand actually; I think Hiroki knew about the coup, and that Itachi would be the Uchiha’s executioner, for a very long time. Since the Kyuubi attack, even.”

Sarutobi mouthed his pipe, lips drawn down in confusion.

“How? He would have been, what, three years old? How is that possible?”

Inoichi was hesitant to respond, eyes twitching as he reviewed the memories once more in his head.

“I’m… not sure. Hiroki has instinctive responses to people sometimes, like he already knows them and has certain expectations or opinions on them. It feels like he’s remembering things, but… I can’t see what. Dreams, maybe. Nightmares.”

The mindwalker shuddered delicately.

“It’s actually really creepy. I live the memories too; he thought it was disgusting to talk to any of his clansmen. Like someone was puppeting dead bodies and pretending they were real people. It ties back to his fear of death; he was _certain_ for most of the past seven years that if he didn’t work hard enough, if he wasn’t strong enough, that he would be dead like all of them. Itachi was actually worse; whenever Hiroki’s thoughts stray to him he hears clocks ticking, feels chairs tipping back too far or feet slipping on stairs, that sort of thing. It’s less that he thought Itachi would stab him with a kunai and more that, in Hiroki’s mind, if Itachi even paid him too much _attention_ he would just fall over dead in the street. That appears to have been the trigger for activating his Sharingan in the academy. Itachi spoke to him while he was training. _Once_. And then during the massacre Itachi _didn’t_ kill him immediately, and once he finally processed that it was like god himself offering a blessing.”

The other two men in the room gave the blond man slightly dirty looks. He threw up his hands in exasperated acknowledgment of their stares.

“Atypical, but _within tolerances_.”

Ibiki settles back in his chair slightly, and Hiruzen chews gently on the stem of his pipe as he thinks.

“He said there was someone else involved in the massacre.”

Morino hummed in agreement, expression pensive.

“Uchiha Madara. He didn’t seem to be lying, though there was obviously some sort of conditioned response to prevent him answering the question. Could he still be alive? Is it possible?”

The mind expert grunted in shared puzzlement.

“That I cannot say. The difficulty talking was more about his manic terror of disappointing Itachi but... After they met in the forest everything becomes a little bit hazy in his mind. Panic, most likely; he didn’t yet _believe_ that Itachi would let him go since his skills weren’t impressive and he hadn’t managed to do anything ‘noteworthy’ for the sake of the village. But he remembers running through the woods and… well. He remembers dying. A man in a mask that made him think ‘Madara’ found him and stabbed him between the C2 and C3 vertebrae. Hiroki was pinned to a tree and eventually bled out.”

The Yamanaka grimaced in distaste.

“It _could_ have been a Genjutsu, but if it was it was the most realistic one I’ve ever felt. _Theoretically_ possible with the Sharingan but…”

He shook his head and gave a shrug of admitted ignorance.

“Then he woke up, and for a little bit he thought he was a ghost and the relief he felt was _unreal_. He doesn’t really enjoy being a shinobi.”

Hiruzen hummed around his pipe, eyes half-closed.

“But he believes that strength is the only thing keeping him safe. He might prefer to live life as a civilian…”

“But a civilian can’t defend themselves. Not uncommon reasoning.” Ibiki finished the thought, nodding to the logic.

Inoichi sighed, pulling a hand through his ponytail in reflex.

“Exactly. As a ninja he faces more danger, but it also gives him more opportunity to grow stronger.”

Ibiki’s expression turned inward as he murmured to himself.

“Strength is Life. Weakness is Death.”

The Sandaime exhaled a cloud of smoke, face heavily lined.

“And he was weak, so he died. And for a moment he was a ghost, all his fears realized and made trivial, no more need to strive. And then he realized he had lived.”

The Yamanaka sighed, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah. That’s another point that I’m not sure of, and one I can’t really pry into more under the circumstances; clan secrets you know. Hiroki might have _actually_ died; when he woke up he was blind in one eye and the moment he realized _that_ was the moment he realized he was still alive. There have always been rumors about more advanced techniques available to bearers of the Sharingan.”

The Sandaime’s head fell into his hands and his voice was tired as he spoke, wrinkled fingers massaging his temples.

“So he was still alive, still afraid of death, and now in need of a new eye. So he went back to the compound and started collecting them, tidying up as he went. Gods. His own parents.”

Inoichi blew out a heavy breath and nodded slowly.

“Yeah, _that_ was when he snapped a little bit. Hiroki doesn’t believe in the Pure World or reincarnation. Dead people don’t _exist_. What need have they of eyes?”

Morino grunted disapprovingly.

“Still disrespectful.”

The blonde shook his head.

“You think that because you _do_ believe in the Pure World.”

Ibiki raised a skeptical eyebrow at his partner.

“No, really, you do. _Most_ ninja do. You might not go to temples every day to pray for your soul, but I don’t think I’ve ever mind walked someone who believed in _nothing_ before. For most shinobi, somewhere in the back of their heads is the _implicit expectation_ that there is something after you die; that you’ll be able to enjoy the fruits of your sacrifice by watching over the next generation in spirit, or _something_. Hiroki doesn’t have that. When you die, that’s it. His opinion on the topic is nuanced but almost… scornful.”

Ibiki allowed his mouth to twist slightly in distaste.

“How can he live like that?”

The Yamanaka shrugged.

“What other choice does he have?”

Sarutobi tapped his pipe out in his ashtray before turning his gaze back on the men.

“Uchiha Hiroki. Final assessment?”

Ibiki grunted.

“Truthful under interrogation, attempted to protect Village secrets but wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to say. Give him a refresher on security protocols and let him loose.”

Inoichi gave a half shrug.

“In need of some psychological leave time, but otherwise fit for active service. Assign him a squad to give him more personal ties within the village and a teacher to help direct his training and he can probably make Jounin in a few more years. His neuroses won't impair his ability to carry out his duties.”

The Sandaime scratched a note on the open file on his desk and flipped it closed.

“Your input is appreciated. Dismissed.”

 

.           .           .

 

Down in my cell I blinked languidly.

I knew it had been worthwhile to learn lipreading.

My Mangekyou finally proved itself useful.

.           .           .

 A/N: So, in case it wasn't clear, Konoha really is the nice village (more or less). The rules regarding interrogation of prisoners and so on are much looser than in the USA cough-Guantanamo-cough, but mostly in that there are some things that the village as a political entity is not allowed to do. Most pertinently, they are not allowed to deliberately search for things like the secrets of bloodlines or techniques. A Yamanaka is legally barred from perusing memories related to a Nara's Shadow Possession technique, for instance, save for in clear cut cases of treason. Hiroki was picked up as a major person of interest, and one of the first things Inoichi found in his head was the identity of who killed all the Uchiha, so he wasn't allowed to look any further beyond trying to figure out some more things about the broader picture. The Hokage can of course _request_ that one of his loyal ninja gives him more details about this thing (and he will) but Hiroki is protected by the treaty signed to found the village; if the Hokage tries to force the knowledge out of him the other clans would have legal grounds to remove Hiruzen from office.

 

Note, Konoha is a military dictatorship, but even dictators know which side their bread is buttered on. Check out the Rules for Rulers episode on CGP Grey's youtube channel.


	18. Contrast 2.3

Aug 1, 8 AK

The Hokage was not smoking his pipe today, wonder of wonders. It was put neatly away on the little stand next to his desk, nothing but cold ashes in the tray below it as he regarded me solemnly over steepled hands. That’s sort of how I feel today, like the fire driving a life spent running has burned out, not even the spark of mania left behind now. Everything is washed out, not greyscale for there is far too much activity for that, but done in sepia tones and faded by long exposure.

“Uchiha Hiroki; report.”

I nod with a somewhat stiff jerk from my position at attention.

“Yes Hokage-dono. On July 8th, Uchiha Itachi began his purge of the traitorous elements of the Uchiha Clan. I was…” I hesitate momentarily, searching for the right word, “... _aware_ , that something had to happen in the near future, but I did not know the exact date until after the death of Uchiha Shisui, who I believe was friends with Itachi-okamisama, and whose death precipitated more drastic measures.”

I pause again and almost bite my lip, before recovering with a quick dart of the tongue to moisten them slightly. I am stable. I am within tolerances. I am a _good ninja_.

“I have been attempting to make my distaste for clan policies and loyalty to Konoha more visible recently; I moved out of the Uchiha district and into the Chunin apartment block almost three months ago, and I have avoided associating with any… _dissatisfied_ Uchiha for far longer. However, I was not certain of how… accepting Itachi-okamisama would be of merely tacit disapproval, or if he would require more stringent measures…”

I suppress a violent twitch and my right hand ghosts momentarily over the back of my left bracer before moving to grip the wrist. The itch is so deep and burns so fierce I know I wouldn’t stop till I hit bone, but I have my bracers, Wasabi’s gift, keeping me sane.

“Fortunately Itachi-okamisama felt I was… adequate, and spared me. However while executing a tactical withdrawal from the area, another individual accosted me and…”

My breath loses its even rhythm, becoming shaky as I pull myself back from the mental cliff’s edge of hyper-vivid memory, before I steady myself.

“Might I ask that you omit this from the official record Hokage-dono?”

He regarded me emotionlessly for a long moment before replying, the long crags of his face shifting with the small movements of his jaw.

“I assume this has something to do with Clan secrets?”

I nodded, more fluid than before but still lacking in normal articulation, and after a moment he assents, touching a slightly glowing spot on the edge of the file folder and dimming it to invisibility.

“Thank you. There are further stages of the Sharingan than most know of, beyond the third tomoe, though even within the clan they are very rare and not well thought of. The Mangekyou is awakened by the trauma associated with the death of a close comrade.” _Wasabi, forgive me, forgive me-_ “It enhances all the other attributes of the Sharingan by a significant margin, and allows access to new techniques which vary from person to person.”

I twitch again and my hand tries to drift towards my eye before I suppress the action once more, clasping my hands together more tightly and taking another deep, cleansing breath. I am _alive_.

“One is called Izanagi; it allows one to momentarily rewrite reality to avoid a killing blow. I did not believe I had access to this particular technique due to… circumstances. An individual claiming to be… Uchiha-sama found me in the forest and killed me. I recovered with the use of Izanagi, which costs the user one eye. I then returned to the Uchiha compound and began insuring that none of my clan’s doujutsu were stolen by enemies of Konoha.”

“How did you know the coup was imminent?”

I grimace slightly, lips pulling tight in distaste, and eyes drifting involuntarily around the room, reflexive search for an escape route which has never existed anywhere.

“I… I have dreams, Hokage-sama. Just… dreams. Different every time, some long and rambling, some short and prematurely ended... But some of them proved… informative. Not... not enough to be _useful_ , just a, a forewarning, potentially. And even then I did not _know_ , I could only _guess_. Itachi might have decided merely to cripple the clan, the coup might have never occurred at all… Mikoto-sama could have assassinated Fugaku-sama and started dating the Yondaime... I can only make informed guesses, occasionally, not predictions- and I am not in any of them. Scrambling blindly in the dark for half-forgotten fragments. I never _really_ know.”

The aged ninja nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful.

“Be that as it may, I would appreciate if you would write a summary of everything you can recall. Even if we can’t rely on your dreams, they may still prove useful.”

Sarutobi gazed at me impassively for several moments before nodding slowly. His face became a trifle softer as he addressed me, the lines losing their edge in the warm afternoon sun.

“Hiroki, I am sorry.”

I blink slowly, completely at a loss, eyes flicking on for a moment as I scan the room for something I might have missed, my brow wrinkling slightly as I slip from rigid attention. I think my confusion saddens the Hokage, as his face gets a little older as he talks.

“It is the duty of the Hokage to ensure the safety of loyal ninja, and you have never proven yourself anything but. I can’t change what has already happened but, if you would like, I _can_ help build you a better future. I would like to offer you a position in ANBU.”

I can’t quite stop my mouth falling open as my face twists into an expression of vaguely horrified shock.

“ _Why_?”

The word slips out before I have any conscious control and I hasten to append a deferential ‘Hokage-sama’ to the end.

Hiruzen smiles faintly at the lapse, bringing his head to rest on an upraised palm.

“I received a recommendation that you would do well in a more structured environment. ANBU can provide excellent training and experience, as well as the opportunity to form new connections with the village.”

His face became a trifle sour.

“Without the Military Police, some duties will have to be covered by ANBU within the village; it might serve well as a proving ground for your abilities while you grow into the role a little bit. As a last note, your survival is virtually unknown at this time. Currently, Sasuke is ‘the Last Uchiha’, and it would likely improve your safety if that remained what everyone believed.”

I stare vacantly at Hokage’s hat for a long moment, tracing the strokes of the kanji over and over, a litany of _fire_ while I think. I’m not sure, but I think my face must have been doing something completely on its own recognizance, because Hokage-sama started giving me a somewhat odd look while I pondered.

This would put me closer to Danzo, which is not _certainly_ bad, but which the preponderance of evidence indicates to be detrimental to my health. This will also give me a significant boost in power; ANBU has some of the most strenuous conditioning regimens of any organization and I can likely learn a lot. While the missions will be high risk, that is not a supreme concern as I have collected a stockpile of replacement eyes, all to be jealously hoarded of course, but I can afford to die once or twice in the line of duty in the pursuit of greater strength, much as I loathe the prospect. It would not do to become overconfident, but I have earned myself at least a small margin for error. Besides, ANBU tends to focus on stealth and infiltration, it synergizes with my specialties and I won’t be in the direct line of fire often. And there is security in remaining a corpse.

“I accept.”

The Hokage gives me a somber smile, the warmth of his expression tinged with regret.

“Welcome, ANBU Squirrel.”

.           .           .

The initiation to my new family is unpleasant.

The physical conditioning is punishing, but not excessively beyond what I had been doing on my own, save that it is far more efficiently organized and I now have watchers to keep pushing me to my true maximum capacity. Taijutsu is brutal, near constant sparring, but the medics patch us up every night and help me improve my own healing jutsu. I can still only manage small injuries on another person but healing yourself is a fair bit easier; no filtering or purification of the chakra required.

The chakra control exercises are very nearly easy, and it is a bizarre moment of anticlimax when I realize this is not intentional, as while the exercises themselves are more demanding than I am used to only three out of the dozen are actually new to me.

I _am_ actually strong; I could potentially have qualified for ANBU work if not for Wasabi’s death throwing a dreary pall over my reputation outside the clan. Perhaps not the more physically taxing assassination missions to be sure, but the slight pause in my Genjutsu instructors stream of questions when I demonstrate one of my own inventions is probably as good as a lesser ninja gaping openly. Apparently no one had thought of making an illusion to disrupt chronoception before.

It is a surreal sensation, the realization of relative competence, something like the fond nostalgia of finding notebooks yellowed with age and thinking back to childhood days when you wanted to be an astronaut, and then noticing that the scribbles in the margins contained the calculus necessary for a lunar orbital-insertion.

Not everything is so simple of course. The exacting lectures on protocol, codes, procedures, hand-talk, and the other minutia of the organization are tedious, and made more so by the physical fatigue, but I can use the Sharingan to memorize everything effortlessly and since no one chides me on it I do, whenever I can spare the chakra.

The sleep deprivation exercises, however, are truly hellish.

I blink at the ceiling, wide eyes drooping slightly while bags form heavy rings around them. The light is on, which means I need to be awake. Smiles everyone!

What was that, twenty minutes? Is it possible they might be trying to implement that ubermensch sleep thing? Wasn’t that debunked? Then again, chakra, how does that work?

“7 Ochre Walnut.”

“Gama 12 Major.”

The call and response code appears in my brain and somehow makes its way out into the world as audible words despite me not really remembering my mouth moving at any point in the process.

Progress.

.           .           .

I have a single day off at the end of the first month, and I use it to visit the Naka Shrine. The tablet is easy enough to find, and it’s not like I have to worry about someone coming across me. The ANBU patrols simply note my presence and allow me to pass unhindered.

The words on the tablet are… unexpected: instructions in Susanoo and Tsukuyomi, Izanagi and Izanami. I can feel the paths in my head, the readiness, the routes my chakra would follow if I flipped the necessary switch, though something has gone wrong with one of them. Instead of an easy to follow trail of little circuits, it is… burnt. Where the others can be gently prodded, tentatively explored and felt out, this last one is… Fused. Locked in one configuration. I am not certain, but I don’t think I will ever be able to use Izanagi on purpose.

I don’t know if I really trust _anything_ written on the stone, either.

I linger for long moments, debating whether or not I should… do _something_ as I stare absently off into the flickering torchlight. Destroy the tablet, or cloak it in an illusion; collapse the Shrine maybe, or scrawl my own warnings over the walls. I takes far longer than it should to choose, but eventually I simply leave. It is not my place to challenge the will of Itachi.

.           .           .

February 16, 9 AK

“Skills? Specialities? Weaknesses?”

I made it through basic and a handful of simple missions, and have been assigned a team. I’m not certain this will work as the Hokage wishes; humans are designed to experience greater empathy for other humans, and masks make that difficult. My eyes blink on for a second in the cool shadows of my mask, quickly cataloguing the visible features of my comrades as much as possible behind the creamy white ceramic composite of their false faces. Is that purple hair?

“Genjutsu, speed, active Sharingan. Minor specialization in medical jutsu, poisons, and seals. Can share the visual field of the target and swap to a new target based on previous target’s eye contact. Limited chakra reserves, limited stamina, low strength.”

My team is well trained, there is only a change in the texture of the silence to indicate interest, subtle shift in the lines of shadow the harsh fluorescent-white light casts onto the walls.

“Shared visual field? Elaborate.”

I nod sharply, trying to place the voice which sounds somehow familiar despite the distortion of the mask.

“Making eye contact with a subject allows me to ‘tag’ that subject. Maintaining the tag requires a small, constant input of chakra, and while the target remains tagged I can see anything they can see. If the tagged individual makes eye contact with another, I can swap the tag to the new target, with a small expenditure of chakra. I have not had opportunity to test it extensively, but I believe I could maintain it for… eight hours before exhausting my reserves. Less twenty minutes for each swap to a new target.”

“Interaction with other Doujutsu?”

I lick my lips uncertainly.

“Unknown.”

There is another moment of silence. One of the others in the team coughs slightly and attention subtly shifts to focus on him. Or her. Not a hundred percent, the masks generate a low grade Genjutsu around us to help disguise our voices, figures, hair color...

“That sounds... useful.”

I nod sharply again, and brutally suppress the desire to offer a wry grin.

There is no Hiroki, only Squirrel.

.           .           .

 

We tend to take missions near and around the village; more than once I am assigned to guard Sasuke. I ponder the irony that I am fulfilling my babbled promise to Itachi unintentionally.

I spend hours watching Sasuke, tiny Sasuke, who is almost as good at hiding his emotions as I was at his age. I have seen the standard template form for bodyguard missions, and I note that the orders _I_ receive are not quite the same. There is no clause about remaining undetected, or about avoiding contact with the primary.

I am not sure what to make of it. Subtle encouragement to connect with my remaining family? It is beyond futile to try and second guess the Hokage, a man of his experience likely knows my reactions far better than I do.

As always, the knowing is pointless; I can only act.

I start small. Very small.

I let Sasuke see me, once or twice.

He flinches the first time, and the second, but by the sixth he has settled for pretending I don’t exist.

I never get close, never speak, never change my position or body language. Maybe I loom a little bit when I notice a civilian approaching the ‘poor orphan Uchiha’ with the spark of greed in their eyes, but that can hardly be called interference.

But I can see the pain in the raven haired boy’s eyes, in the way he walks, attempts at confidence ruined by the occasional bird-like twitch. It is acutely familiar, and I cannot decide whether to hate Sasuke or feel sympathy.

The sun is particularly anemic, clouds promising rain scudding across the sky, stifling shadows chasing each other across the canopy of the village as the wind high above moves the clumps of condensation about. The world is positively cancerous with the glut of green leaves and multihued flowers, the warmth of an early spring already setting the riot of color to rot, fat and heavy with the bloat of life.

How I hate the heat and humidity. Learning to ignore such things is a wonderfully immediate benefit of ANBU.

My eyes nictate, embedding this moment in my memory by Sharingan flicker, and I use a tiny bit of chakra to push a drop of sweat away from my left eyebrow as I watch tiny Sasuke practice kunai throwing.

My rotation on his detail is nearly up, and Wolf-taicho is already being briefed on our next mission. I may not see Sasuke again for quite a while, and the slightly possessive tingle I have been feeling is stronger today than usual, compounded perhaps by the slight drain of will that comes with summery heat.

His form is stiff, muscles tight with effort and face pinched with concentration. It is throwing off his aim, the timing of his release is pushed all out-of-whack by the tension vibrating through his whole body. He misses the target yet again, and scowls, baby fat cheeks puffing up in… the… most… adorable… way…

I viciously garrote the impulse to squee and squish his precious little face, taking a second to recompose myself. I won’t interfere, I won’t interfere, I’ll just interfere a _little-_

“You try too hard.”

I am surprised enough by my own words that I almost tip off the log, catching myself at the last moment. Sasuke glances towards me and his face twitches with poorly shielded emotions. Shame makes a brief appearance, before being supplanted with a familiar despair which is in turn quickly suppressed beneath cold determination.

“I need to be _strong_ , to… “

He trails off uncertainly, gripping his practice kunai tighter. I hum under my mask, considering what to say to most concisely convey my thoughts, particularly with my new... perspective.

“Strong is subjective. A _rock_ is strong. Don’t be strong.”

My shoulders ripple languorously as I stretch my back out before a thunk on the training post draws his attention away from me, a sharp stone shot from my hand too fast for an academy student to follow buried dead center in the bullseye. He turns back but I am already gone, voice lingering on the wind.

“Be flexible.”

I don’t meddle again. Though if the occasional scroll on meditation and chakra control appear on the shelves of Sasuke’s apartment, well, these things happen.

Not all of my tasks are so conflicting, most are very banal. Breaking up bar fights between Ninja is annoying, but drunk shinobi are easy prey for Genjutsu which makes my life easier.

It is not until my fourth assignment with my new team that things get… sticky.

.  .  . 

A/N: So many little things, first, it should be noted that ANBU is pulled from Chunin, Special Jounin (Tokujo) and Jounin. It is not where all the best ninja go, necessarily, because that isn't what it is _for_. ANBU is primarily about deniability, things the village needs done but can't afford to be tied to. Stealth, speed, and the ability to keep going no matter what are what they look for. The other nice thing about ANBU is the internal secrecy; think about Tenzo, who didn't really have super ANBUy skills, but needed to be kept out of sight until they really needed him. That's what's happening to Hiroki here; currently, all of five people in Konoha know he's still alive: Boar, another ANBU working in TnI involved in processing, Inoichi, Ibiki, Hiruzen. If you count Itachi, who probably assumes Hiroki died anyway, that's 6. Danzo doesn't know. Danzo probably won't ever find out; Hiruzen is going to be much harder on him this time because _this_ time, he actually had to apologize to one of the people who had been hurt but his negligence. Root is going to be hit with much harder scrutiny.

On Hiroki's animal: it was a suggestion by a co-worker and I thought it was a good fit.

Hiroki is... okay, skill wise. Comparing him to one of those actual prodigy types, he blows. But in terms of absolute skill, he's... okay.

Chakra control: Low Jounin

Genjutsu, Accuracy, Speed: High Chunin

Taijutsu: Low Chunin

Stamina, Fuinjutsu, medical jutsu, Ninjutsu, Strength: High Genin

The suffix 'okamisama' can be broken down fairly easily as 'Lord God'. 'Sama' is generally respectful without being a title, compare to 'dono' which means 'lord' as in the political position; you might translate 'sama' as 'sir'. 'kami' means 'spirit' or 'god' in a technical sense, so 'okami' means something like 'great god' or possibly 'ruling spirit' ('o' can mean 'king') so 'okamisama' means 'sir king god' or, 'supreme god', or more simply, 'Lord God'.


	19. Contrast 2.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scenes of Physical and Psychological Torture

 

“How important is the intel?”

“Priority A. Mostly we don’t want it spreading to the other villages, and we need to be fast.”

I hummed lightly and cock my head at the Iwa-nin, whose gaze is jerking around the delightfully damp little hole we are sitting in, lit by the sickly yellow glow of something which I suspect may be a fungus.

I have been feeling… tacky, of late. Past fears are like cat hairs stuck in tape, muddling my intent with stray wisps of terror; the feel of poorly dried paint clinging to my dreams, slowing me down and distracting me from a purity of purpose. I want to do something… demonstrative; something which will show beyond a shadow of a doubt my commitment to the Village, to survival, to _service_ , a symbol not just for them, but for _myself_.

“So we don’t necessarily need him _intact_ then? It would be acceptable if he broke?”

Wolf-taicho nods slowly, the lines of color on his mask tinted oddly by our surroundings.

“Suboptimal, but within mission parameters.”

“Well, I think I have a solution then.”

I peer through my clay face with burning eyes and stand in front of the prisoner.

“Hello there! Look into my eyes please? _Tsukuyomi_.”

.           .           .

I stand next to the man in the Red World.

“I wonder what you’re afraid of?”

Chains leap from the ground to cling like amorous vipers and begin pulling him down; the dirt turns to water as he breaks the surface, and I float into the depths beside him.

“Iwa... not a lot of water, is there? A fear of drowning maybe?”

The breath bubbles from his lungs and he starts to struggle just a little, facade cracking a hair as the pressure starts to build, the desperate need to breathe growing more immediate but the weight of thick, almost gelatinous purple water slowing even chakra enhanced strength.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll find out together.”

.           .           .

“Oops, no, no, I need you to stay conscious Jinbe-kun, that’s what _good_ boys do.”

My hands glow teal as I clap them to the sides of his head, healing the micro-strokes induced by the technique even as my eyes start to drip blood.

“ _Tsukuyomi_.”

.           .           .

A Red moon in a Red sky in a Red, Red World.

“Well that’s water, lightning, and earth. I wonder what you think of fire?”

.           .           .

“Cat-san, you can perform a chakra transfusion, yes? I am afraid this is proving somewhat more taxing than I originally anticipated.”

Jinbe’s eyes are darting frantically around the room.

“No! Please! I’ll tell you everything! I will!”

I pat him lightly on the cheek as I get resettled from a quick stretch, Cat’s hand on my back and a flood of daisy fresh chakra filling me fit to burst. My hands once again clutched at the captive’s head.

“Oh, thats so _sweet_ of you Jinbe-kun. I wish I could believe you. _Tsukuyomi_.”

.           .           .

We are looking at a human brain. Jinbe’s, as it happens.

“See, this is the wonderful thing about this technique. It isn’t necessary to remain constrained by what is possible in reality. I can do anything I can imagine here. Look!”

His brain starts to convulse as creatures made of needles and razors dance across it and he screams beside me, his muscles writhing and snapping at the sudden strain.

“But it doesn’t _have_ to be all bad Jinbe-kun. Can I ask you to do something for me?”

An image of the Deidara appears before us, blond hair and scratched headband and all.

“I need to really _believe_ in you, Jinbe-kun. So kill this shinobi for me.”

He does as ordered, hands twitching slightly, but he does it.

“Very good Jinbe-kun.”

The brief burst of pleasure is mind numbing, made even more intense by the sudden relaxation of the pressure I have been slowly building over the past hour, and suddenly we are standing in the interrogation chamber.

“Take off the restraints, he should be cooperative now.”

The moment his manacles are released Jinbe tries to kill us all with a suicide technique. It fizzles and he stares at his hands in horror before the skin starts to drip off his bones like so much pink paint. Every face in the room turns to him, and every one of them is me, the earthen walls sloughing off like festering flesh to reveal the Red World once more.

“That was very naughty Jinbe-kun. How can I ever trust you?”

.           .           .

My subject is starting to convulse slightly in my hands.

“Hmm, Otter-san, you have a bit of medical training, yes? I think I need a bit of help. Almost done though, it should only take one or two more cycles.”

Hands settle on the back of Jinbe’s head, a slightly lighter shade of jade joining my own efforts.

“ _Tsukuyomi_.”

.           .           .

Jinbe twitches nervously as he walks out of the hideout with us, eyes darting here and there before he shoots away in a burst of previously undisplayed speed as our attention lapses momentarily. We try to chase him, but another squad of Iwa-nin come to his rescue, delaying and distracting us from the pursuit. His breakneck pace leads him inexorably home, where he finally falls to his knees before the Tsuchikage.

“They- the Leaves- they did- they have a- Sharingan.”

The hunched and weathered form of the Tsuchikage tuts gently under his breath, face shadowed by the hat he wears.

“That’s very bad news. Terribly, terribly disappointing. You’re a _bad_ boy, Jinbe-kun.”

Jinbe pulls up his gaze, face already lined with despairing understanding as he looks into my eyes. I shake my head and tut saddly in unfeigned regret over the sound of ripping and snapping echoing through the office.

“Why do you make me hurt you this way?”

.           .           .

I rub tiredly at my eyes under my mask, clearing away some of the blood, before bending to the task once more.

“ _Tsukuyomi_.”

.           .           .

I pat the figure staring up at me with blank adoration in a friendly way.

“You have been a very good boy Jinbe-kun. I think we’re nearly done. Would you like that? Would you like to be done?”

He is obviously unsure of what the right answer is, and for a moment his face twists into abject terror before the programing asserts itself and he settles into a slightly nervous smile.

“I want to be able to serve… But I need to be punished for all the times I was a bad boy. Will… will I be done making it up to you soon?”

I smile gently down at him, humming gently under my breath.

“Oh yes. Just a little while longer.”

.           .           .

I stand, ANBU-training working overtime to hide the tremble of fatigue, and remove my hands from the former Iwa-nin. Former, for he is mine now, forever.

“Jinbe-kun, who do you serve?”

The response is slightly rushed, and he looks up at me with trusting, pleading eyes.

“Konoha. I am the loyal dog of Konoha. Jinbe is a good boy. Good boys serve Konoha.”

I pat him gently on the head on my way past him to the exit.

“Very good Jinbe-kun. These people had a few questions they were hoping you could answer. Do your best, okay?”

I walk through the door calmly, but once outside the cell I sprint till I get to the bathroom. My mask comes off in a hurry and I empty my stomach into the toilet, dripping blood mixing with the bile to form a foul slurry, staining the pristine porcelain with the physical evidence of my guilt and horror.

No. I feel no guilt. Guilt implies that I did something wrong. It was terrible, yes, but necessary. I serve the Village. This is my _function_. The sludge in the basin is hesitance expelled, reticence ejected, cobweb clinging desire for the _other_ rejected and expunged so it can no longer tie me to defunct and obsolete modes of thought. I am left pure, the obscuring shadow on my path dispelled by the warm sunlight of commitment. I am calm, I am focused, I am unashamed.

The door creaks behind me and I stand quickly, putting my mask back in place.

There is no Hiroki, only Squirrel.

Wolf is staring at me, and I cannot read his body language. Not that I was ever very good at that, of course, but ANBU helped at least a little. I can’t figure out my teammates though. Too professional.

He simply looks at me for a long moment before his face shifts to the stall I just vacated. I turn slightly and kick the handle to flush away the residue.

“Apologies, Wolf-taicho. I have never tried that before. It was more draining than I had allowed for in my initial estimates.”

He stares at me for a long moment.

“That was… unnecessary. You did not have to go that far. If you need some time…”

I shake my head placidly.

“Thank you for the concern Taicho, but I will be fine with rest. Strength is Life, Service is Purpose. I serve Konoha, and the Hokage. There is nothing else.”

His mask tilts down a little, but the Genjutsu on the eye holes keeps me from seeing anything beyond a dull gleam.

“We’re going drinking once we get back to Konoha.”

I nod, gingerly.

“...As you say, Taicho.”

.           .           .

The masks come off, new ones take their places. Not as thick, no, not as opaque or concealing, but in ANBU the mask never really leaves you. I envy Kakashi-sensei.

I haven’t seen my team’s faces before; it hasn’t come up in a job yet and at any rate ANBU culture says to wait until after you’ve completed a hard mission to offer that level of trust.

I blink as Wolf takes off his mask. Speak of the devil…

“Hello sensei.”

His face breaks, only very slightly, as he recognizes me. How sweet!

“Hiroki? I…”

I smile, blank and pleasant, and with my eyes as well. I can't get it _quite_ right anymore though, and I can see that on his face, even with the mask, that little flinch at the _wrong_ -child’s plastic expression. It’s doubly disappointing because I really am more than halfway glad to see Kakashi. Not sure what I’m doing wrong anymore; perhaps I just never learned how to do it properly?

“It’s just Chou right now, sensei. All the Uchiha are dead, remember?”

Cat removes his mask.

“I am Tenzou. Nice to meet you.”

I blinked, slightly taken aback, but then Otter’s mask comes off as well, long hair flipping behind her as she shakes her head.

“Uzuki Yugao. I helped with the cleanup. You did efficient work.”

Shoot, there it goes again, all the little eye muscles going slack and _wide_. I try to make up for the slip by stretching my mouth broader, but I can’t quite keep my expression as I want it when people perturb my inner equilibrium, non-essential pieces of my body forsaking conscious control in the flickering scream of memories through my mind’s supreme crystal eye. The massacre is still a sore spot. I’ll have to keep working on that.

“Thank you! Now, I believe we were going to get shitfaced?”

.           .           .

Never gotten drunk as Hir- oh. Chou. Never gotten drunk as Chou before. Turns out I’m a silly-drunk. And a little bit angry-drunk. And a little sad-drunk? It got sort of blurry eventually…

“Tenzou~ Why- hic- why are you so scary? Tenzuu? Tenzomato! Yamazo? Mmm… rum. Rum is good. And cherries. _Fuuuuuuck_ I love me some cherries.”

Uzuki-chan is giving me a strange look, and I slap at her general direction, briefly obscuring some of the neon light which is glittering around the bar in blues and purples and giving me a tiny headache already. The Henge remains rock steady concealing my identity though; _thanks_ ANBU.

“Don’t look at me like that! ‘Sides, you gonna be all sad. Be happy now! He’s gonna get killed by that Sand guy, Bari? Bara? Baka. Heh, Bakashi!”

I snuggle into Kakashi-sensei for a moment, enjoying hugging him even if he is as stiff as a-

“Logged! You logged me! Bad Bakashi-sensei! Lemme hug you fuker! No, no, no, do’n, don’t feel bad, I’m, I’m sorry! Wasn’t your fault, fucking Genjutsu asshole, fuggin’ Ma-”

I break off into a gurgle and Tenzou gives me a firm slap on the back. I wave him off and get my breath back, taking a gulp of my drink to clear my throat.

“Not choking! I can breathe and drink at the same time! Not at the _same time_ , same time, but like, _differn’_ times at the same time. W’as I saying? Oh yeah, fuck Ma-glech! Oh, right, can’t say it, bad bad, shoosh! It’s a secret! Can’t say it! Bad bad shoosh! Stab me in the throat asshole! I’ll show you! Fucking moon fucker!”

Tenzou and Kakashi are giving me very concerned looks now, and Yugao is looking from me to the small stack of tumblers from my rum and cokes while rubbing her forehead and wearing a tolerant smile. Rum and _cherry_ cokes! Very important that bit. I try to calm down my male teammates with more waving but it makes me a little bit dizzy.

“It’s okay Kashi-sensii, everything is gonna be Oh! Kay! Just you wait and see! I told you! I told you! You too Tenzouwoahwoahwoah! Show that snake hole what for! But then he gets better? What the fuck Kishitomo, fuckin… ‘no he didn’ mean it, he comes from circumstances and cares!’ like what? What even? Just, why? Why? ...Why? Fuggin’- why mom? He wasn’t that great, you could have told him to fugg off, who cares if you’re married to ‘im, you could just, just, why?”

My head is on the table somehow and my vision is getting really blurry for some reason, and my voice sounds weird, and… everything gets really sleepy.

...Am I flying? Oh, right, fucking ninja.

“Mmm, Kashi-se’sei, don’ wanna go home yet, ‘ers no rum there. Rum is good.”

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

“Pfff hehehehehe! Get’n a fuggin, evelen year old drunk! Elven? Twelve? Ha, Ho- How old am I again? Too old for this shit!”

Kakashi slides me off his back and onto the faded orange comforter on my bed pretty easily, despite my efforts to hang on a bit tighter. He tugs my sandals off and I’m starting to wake up a little bit, just enough to make grabby motions at him.

“No, don’ go, stay. Stay? Please?”

He blows a heavy breath out his nose.

“I don’t think that would be very appropriate.”

I wave my hand at him in inebriated irritation.

“Nah, nah, just, just touch me.”

That got a raised eyebrow high enough to see even in the dark.

“Not like that! Fuggin’, perv. Icha Icha moer fugger. Nah just, come here.”

A flailing hand catches his and pulls him a little bit closer to the bed. Once he was near enough I put his hand on my head and sort of smooshed it around a little.

“Just, pretend I’m one of your ninken. Just… just touch me.”

His hand moved a little bit, enough that I let go to allow him freedom. Fovea hopped out of his bed and curled up under my chin. Good kitty. Best friend. The cheer of the evening is leaking out a bit, leaving me feeling deflated and suddenly tired, the buzz no longer an enjoyable relaxation of a rigid exterior, but an unpleasant loss of control.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

The hand pauses for a moment before resuming the light stroking.

“It’s okay. I know.”

I hug my cat a little tighter, and my eyes can’t seem to focus on anything.

“I’ll do better. I promise.”

My quiet murmurs turn into a hypnotic rumble, lulling me closer to sleep. I catch on that floating moment before loss of consciousness, and experience an almost lucid instant.

“I see him. Every night. He _looks_ at me. I’m sorry. I’m so scared.”

The hand keeps moving, and the world falls away.

  
. . .

  
A/N: ANBU are not nice.

I think the juxtoposition of children songs into scenes of horror is rather cliche, but still quite nice for all of that. There's a Hole in the Bucket is one I particularly like for this because it is one of those loop style songs. The man needs to patch the hole in the bucket, and they go through all the things he needs to do to patch the hole, ending up with needing a fixed bucket to get the supplies, "But there's a hole, in the bucket, dear Eliza." Though I hadn't heard the actual melody the first time I read the lyrics, so the way I sing it in my head is more bum baaaaaaaah bah da dum dum, bah da dum dum bah da dum dum, bum baaaaaaah bah da dum dum, bah da dum dum dun dun.


	20. Contrast 2.5

Another day, another Village patrol mission. It’s boring, sure, but I can still practice some skills while I drift across the rooftops. There are lots of ninja moving here and there, and hiding from them is a good way to hone my stealth. I have a modified chakra suppression Seal on my forearm, dulling the radiation of energy so my signature stands out less from background, and my invisibility and chameleon Genjutsu are getting quite effective.

I have been trying to come up with a more efficient means of avoiding detection, something in the vein of a Somebody-Else’s-Problem Field; invisibility is all well and good but to an alert ninja it can make you stand out like a signal flare, clearly marking you as !HIDING! What would the sequence be though? I could probably start with a modified Hell Viewing and work in more elements related to attention... Dog-rat-dog-ram-dragon-boar-sparrow-horse-hare? Or maybe dog-rat-dog-ram-dragon-boar-monkey-horse-ox? Hmm, maybe-

My attention is abruptly caught by a crashing noise coming from the shop a street over; my course adjusts immediately to investigate. It’s probably nothing but this is literally my entire job right now so…

A small figure in a white shirt featuring a prominent orange swirl tumbles out the door, a visibly angry man in an apron rushing out after and waving a broom in a threatening way. Let’s see: wearing orange? Check. Getting yelled at by villagers? Check. Blonde as a dandelion? Check. Cute little whisker scars? Big check. Well, I had been wondering when I would meet the title character…

“Is there a problem? Is he bothering you?”

The shopkeeper shook the broom at Naruto aggressively.

“I’ll say! This little monster was-”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

He flinches at my flat tone and blank stare, before I turn to the ensure the security of the Village’s largest strategic asset.

“Are you alright?”

Naruto is looking up at me with an expression of surprise and awe, but quickly subsides into excited questioning.

“Oh cool! You came out of nowhere! How’d you do that? Are you a ninja? How do I learn to do that?”

I crouch down slightly and ruffle his hair, keeping my tone friendly.

“I am a ninja, yes. And it took lots of practice to learn to move so fast. You’ll have to study hard in the academy, okay?”

Sun bright hair bobs as he nods energetically and I give him another pat on the head. Don’t hug him, don’t hug him, be professional. How is it legal for a child to be this cute?

“Go play now, I’ll deal with this guy.”

He’s gone in an instant and the brief spark of cheer flickers out in his wake as I turn back to the sputtering clerk.

“But he-”

A sharp gesture with my hand cuts him off abruptly.

“I don’t _care_. It doesn’t matter what he did. He could pull your liver out and eat it in the middle of the street if he wanted to. You. Do. Not. Hit. The. Container. You are legally allowed to withhold service from anyone, but you are _not_ permitted to risk damage to Village property. If he comes by again and you don’t want to sell him anything, tell him to leave. If he doesn’t obey, then flag down a patrol and we’ll handle it. Do you understand this warning?”

The subtle pressure building in the air seems to be getting to the little civilian, for he is visibly quailing under my softly spoken words. When he doesn’t respond immediately I lean in a bit closer to hiss in his ear.

“ _Do you understand this warning_?”

He almost falls back from me, nodding his head rapidly and voicing his assent.

“Excellent! Your cooperation is appreciated.”

With a final polite nod I depart, bouncing back across the rooftops after Naruto. I keep an eye on him for the rest of the day, as I can, and fortunately it appears that the store clerk was an outlier; most of the villagers are wary, and perhaps a little rude, but not at all abusive.

Naruto’s home conditions are about as bad as I had feared though; dirty dishes stacked a foot high in the sink, clothes and kunai scattered all over the floor, a pile of instant ramen cups overflowing the trash can.

I ignore the impulse to run an exasperated hand through my hair and instead resume my normal patrol, making a mental note to deliver some supplies to his apartment when I have a free moment. Some clothes, vegetables, books on chakra control and basic techniques… or, rather, maybe just some instructional drawings. Kinesthetic learner, right? And another little orphan boy, added to the list of my concerns.

I permit a very soft sigh to escape as I leap to the next roof.

Wasn’t I trying to keep myself removed from the course of events? Oh well, it’s not like I really use my pay for anything. Fovea can keep an eye out for them, while I’m busy. But there is no way I’m letting him wear that awful jumpsuit in the future.

.           .           .

I am sitting and watching my hands.

Or rather, I am sitting and watching my Shadow Clone’s hands, though since we are the same person the distinction is entirely irrelevant; a fork of myself has no more or less intrinsic personhood than I do, and I and myself are the same thing, so…

To be even more specific, I am watching my clone slowly run through the hand seals for the Body Flicker with my Mangekyou active, paying keen attention to the subtle twisting of chakra as each seal forms and the precise moment when the last seal is made and the technique activates.

The clone flickers (it is in the name after all) and is suddenly exactly one meter to the left of his starting position.

My eyes narrow slightly as I jot down the apparent amount of chakra consumed on a bit of paper. I glance back up at myself, who nods and pushes his hands through the proper pattern again, slightly faster.

Two meters.

The Shunshin is definitely an interesting technique, for all that it doesn’t see quite as much use as you would expect. Most shinobi find the near instantaneous transition from point to point far too disorientating to be reliably exploited in combat. Shisui was justly famous, even if he had also gone beyond simple mastery in order to form some sort of bastardization of the technique combined with a clone of some kind to make his solid afterimages.

Four meters.

Getting familiar enough with the rapid movement in his case required the high-speed visual processing of the Sharingan, though it does raise the question of why the Hyuuga don’t use the jutsu more often. Possibly an over rigid adherence to tradition, though I find that explanation unlikely. Ninja are somewhat slow to adopt new things, but when they do they tend to be ferocious in their pursuit.

Eight meters.

Among other interesting characteristics of the Body Flicker is the conservation of momentum. If you enter the technique moving at a certain speed, you will exit the technique moving at that speed. Since most ninja use the ability exclusively for high-speed mid-range transportation in mostly straight lines, it is entirely possible that few to none of them have ever realized what this means; we rarely question ‘why’ when things go according to plan, after all.

Sixteen meters.

However, by far the most useful aspect is that your body can change position during transit. A foot held at waist height while entering the slipstream of chakra may be placed at ground level when exiting, or vice versa.

Thirty Two meters.

I twitch my fingers and the fork collapses. There is only one of me again, and I now remember the experiment from two perspectives. My breathing is a little deeper than I would like; even a single clone is a noticeable strain though with the onset of puberty my reserves have been growing at a consistent rate, the rush of Yang balancing out my modest excess of Yin.

The pen taps against the paper idly as I twitch it between my fingers, searching through the numbers carefully. I will want Kakashi-taicho to check, he is better with math than I am, at least without a calculator, but…

The flat cost is small. This is important. _Very_ important. It might be the secret which motivated Shisui to chase his peculiar brand of perfection in the first place.

Most ninjutsu have a minimum cost of implementation and an additional variable cost depending on how large you want it to be: number of clones, size of fireball, or as in this case, distance traveled. If the initial cost is high, the technique is best implemented at greater magnitudes so that the ratio of costs is more favorable. But if the cost is low…

The chakra necessary to move via Body Flicker doubles every twenty meters traveled, but the minimum cost is almost small enough to be negligible. Using the Shunshin to travel less than two meters is a trivial expenditure of energy; I could likely execute such a maneuver more than a hundred times before starting to stress my reserves. The only hangup would be the speed at which I could execute the technique, the speed I can push my hands through the seals.

My smile is somewhat flat, but not disingenuous.

On the other hand, like I always say, you can’t _really_ perform a Jutsu till you can perform it without hand-seals.

“Something funny?”

I blink my eyes off and stare at Otter with a trace of mirth still echoing around my lips.

“I don’t know. I tend to find humor in things other people find quite oblique.”

Yugao tilts her head at me quizzically.

“Try me.”

I pause for a moment, thinking back and back, to when I had ready access to a universe of the abstract and the surreal.

“A monk walks up to a ramen stand and says: ‘make me one with everything’.”

There is a long pause, my teammate's face blank as she thinks it over before nodding slowly, her expression distant and speculative.

“I get it. It isn’t making me laugh, but I get it.”

The smile which grows over my face is obscenely bright.

Is this that Human emotion called friendship?

Oops, make a note: that giggling freaks out Yugao.

.           .           .

I am growing moderately fond of my team, though it is clear that everyone has damage. It is apparently the prerequisite to service in ANBU. I already know Kakashi’s and Tenzou’s; Yugao eventually lets hers leak quite by accident.

It was just a simple in village patrol, and the girl only tripped a bit. Otter flashed down and caught her, helped her up, just your friendly neighborhood ANBU, nothing to see here.

We hopped back onto the roof of a nearby building, and had to pause for a moment as Otter began trembling almost too hard to move for a bare instant. I glance at her before turning away to scan the area, giving her a moment of privacy to recover herself.

The confidential medical files are open to anyone with a certain level of medic training, which I have managed to acquire in the passing months.

Miscarriage. I don’t have access to mission records, but we get sent on all the worst assassination jobs. I can guess. I just had one.

.           .           .

Assassinate the Wind-Dimayo's second cousin, next in line while his wife is still pregnant with their first son. The Suna-nin subcontract out such jobs to Konoha and we do the same, to avoid possible conflicts of interest you know.

The mission parameters just gave me a location and a general physical description. Not the age of the target.

Just me, no backup needed for a Genjutsu expert coated in stealth seals.

And there he sat, mouthing at some colored blocks, couldn’t be older than two. Probably his parents or an advisor that made concerns start creeping up which needed to be ‘addressed’.

We Do Not Think, We Just Obey; There Is No War In Ba Sing Se.

.           .           .

May 28, 9 AK

“See, I had this dream once, right?”

Alcohol doesn’t help, not really, but it lets you _pretend_ to be okay, and sometimes that’s all you can really do when the world is trying to blind you with the horrible primary red of all your mistakes and failings.

“It was a pretty good dream, though some parts of it were kinda weird, yeah? Fuckin tentacles man, how do they work?”

Spiced rum almost tastes like vanilla, little swirls of cream and cherry and the rich deep brown of old scabs. Vanilla cherry coke. Yum.

“Anyway, somehow, demons were winning the war for Earth. Like, normally there’s a balance between the Kami and the Akuma, but somehow they had like, killed off all the gods. Probably hired a fuking ninja to do it, _soooo_ fuggin good at killin’ things. So, like, the demons were spreading their curse of despair all over the world. No more goodguys. Like, you’d be on a mission, right? And you’ll be like, ‘should I stab the babbbie?’ And its, like, no that’s fukin _stupid_. But then, you’re all, ‘nah, I’ll stab the baby’.”

I finish off the drink and wave for another from the bar, carefully stacking the empty glass onto the small pyramid taking shape in front of me, white-blue ice cubes clinking in their tumblers as the tower shifts minutely.

“It made all the dumb shit seem less dumb, made you prefer the bad options over good ones. But then it turned out, right, that Naruto was the new head of the pantheon!”

Kakashi is giving me a very intent look, or rather, a very casual look that I know he only bothers with when he is actually paying close attention to something. I scowl back at him.

“Wha’? Seriously! I’m not as think as you drunk I am. Shut up fly!”

The stupid horse fly’s buzzing is cut out by my senbon pinning it to the ceiling. I smirk evilly at Kakashi’s dryly raised eyebrow as the waiter drops a fresh glass before me.

“Yeah! ‘S right! I might be drunk, but I’m still a ninja! I can _kill_ shit! Naruto _never_ has to kill shit. He’s just, like, fukin _magic_ , like, he punches you in the face and you’re all, ‘oh wow, stabbin the baby is _dumb_! Everything’ is so clear now!’. Heh, hey, hey, hey… hey! Kashi-sensei! You should have him punch you in the face! It’s like, fuckin, therapy! It’s like, like, ninety percent safe? Only like, two people killed themselves afterword. Er, three. Three people. Forgot about… him. But you’d feel better.”

Half the bar is giving me weird looks, or they would be if it weren’t for the powerful anti-auditory Genjutsu scribed into seals etched onto the underside of all of the tables which turns all the noise in the smoky purple interior of the bar into nothing more than a dull buzzing. No one can hear me save for my team.

“He jus’, just has to punch you, and, and, and, you’re like. ‘Nah, don’t stab the babby.”

I stare at the glass of dark liquid for a long moment, bubbles sliding along and between the angular planes of the ice to float briefly at the surface before popping with a tiny hiss of finality.

“But then th’ Hokage says stab the baby, so I stab the baby.”

It doesn’t taste as sweet anymore, but I empty my drink anyway, tilting my head back, and back, and back, to get every last drop until I fall over, ice spilling out and down my shirt. I wriggle at the sudden assault and definitely don’t squeal like a little piglet at the cold wet blobs. Yugao helps me back up and I stare at her pretty hair. So fucking purple!

Oh did I say that out loud?

A nod.

“Oops. Oh well. Hey, hey... hey, you know who else has purple hayr? On their head? And maybe other places, wink wink? Anko! Hey! Anko! Oh my gosh! I haven't seen you in, in, like… a while!”

The Kunoichi at the bar turns towards me with surprise clear in her unrecognizing face and I wobble into giving her a big hug. I am just starting my growth spurt now so my head lines up nicely with her torso. It is so nice and soft and squishy. Oh, did I say that out loud again?

“Anko, you’re so pretty! Like, ‘ugh kunoichi can’ be good at anything!’. Nuh uh! Girls are awesome! Wish I was a girl sometimes. Bet I’d have huge tits too. Mom was so purty, and we could do each others nails and braid each other’s hair…”

Anko leers at me aggressively, little tick marks appearing on her head. Or they would be if this was an anime. As it is the noise of her teeth grinding is disturbing enough already, but it’s okay, I forgive her.

“Well I’ve got a kunai, I can help you out with the _transition_ if you like, twerp.”

Oh, right, the Genjutsu, can’t let anybody know who I am. Not the little Genin she knew anymore am I? Just some random shrimp in an ANBU uniform. Her companion pulls me away with a nervous smile.

“He didn’t mean anything by it Anko-chan. Did you?”

I blink at the girl holding me by the shoulders, taking a long moment to register who’s talking to me.

“OH! Kurenai! Oh wow! Hey, hey, don’ ever get married! You’re really cool, and then that asshole knocks you up, and you just retire, like, wha’teh’fuk?! No! Make _him_ stay at home, lazy fuggin, chain-smokey dummy!”

Anko seems intensely interested in this line of inquiry. She pulls me back into her lap and squishes me against… something soft and awesome.

“Oh _really_? Little Kurenai gets preggers and retires? From a chain smoker no less! Now who do we know who smokes a lot?”

Kurenai is stuttering out denials, face highly flushed, and I nod seriously at Anko.

“Yep!” The p pops explosively. “I can see the Future!” finger waggles for emphasis, “Or, like, I _did_. You were gonna get _fat_!”

She would probably be angry but that the outrage was clear in my voice, so instead she shares my look of affront at such dire insult to such outstanding beauty.

“An’ I’m like, wha? Why you gotta be so mean to girls? Anko, you gonna be sexy forever! Ima, I’m gonna be your friend. So soft and squishy and awesome. And if you start getting _too_ squishy, I’ll take away the dango, and we can do a few days with Guy, okay? And you never gonna get fat! Super, Sexy, Deadly Anko forever! Murder Bitcheeeeeeees!!!”

Anko laughs so hard I roll off of her lap and might have hit the floor but that Kakashi caught me and dragged me back to our table with apologetic smiles to the ladies, who have descended into an intense argument in the wake of my announcement of undying fidelity.

Sat back down, our Kunoichi teammate is giving me an odd look.

“You can’t _really_ see the future can you?”

I shrug and carefully remove one of the tumblers from the stack which still contains a bit of ice and melted water to sip at.

“Fucking _useless_. Maybe, might be, never was. Seein’ the _past_! That’s, that’s useful. Got some of that too. But i’s all secrets. Can’t say.”

My team is giving me weird looks again. Yes! Success! _Love me_!

“Chou, does the Hokage know?”

I nod wobbly.

“Yeah; like, yeah. But, not so much. Like I said, fuggin... fuggin useless. Don’t _know_ w’as, what’s going to happen. Does Naruto have the Rinnegan?”

Kakashi gives me a slow headshake.

“Not the last time I saw. Just, regular eyes.”

I wave my hands in a ‘tada’ sort of way but end up knocking a glass off the table.

“Oh, I’ll pay for that. But you see? _See_? Don’t _know_. Guess, maybe, but like; there were only five Hokage right?”

“Four, Chou. Just four.”

“Yeah, right, s’ what I mant. But, like, Three went twice. But one time; one time he was the… seventh? And Minato-sama was eighth. N’ everything was _sort_ of the same anyway, but a lil’, a little different. _Dreams_. And I’m not in any of ‘em. So, don’t know. See whats happen’n in a few… few years…”

Tables are _sooo_ comfortable.

.           .           .

I’m flying again, on Kakashi’s back. The cold wind brings me back to myself a little, enough that I cling tighter to his shirt, and he shifts slightly in acknowledgment.

“Don’ know why you bother.”

He is silent for a moment, a long leap through the air from one roof to the next.

“You’re my student, and my teammate.”

I sniffle a little and clutch even harder, chuckling a little tiredly.

“Not the one you _liked_. What, what’s Nikkei doing these days? She get promoted?”

Another moment of silence, longer than the first.

“Yes. Six months ago. KIA on her first B-Rank.”

I can’t muster up the energy to properly cry, not after so long and so many missed chances. Just silent tears leaking out and making the back of Kakashi’s mask wet as my body twitches with uneven breath. He doesn’t complain. Kakashi is the best.

“It’s just you ‘n me then. Fourth time in a row, sort of. If you count Jiraiya. Fukin’ cursed. ‘Cept I’ll never be famous for anything but bein’ _your_ student. ‘Oh look, student of the Rokudaime, what’s he up to? Fuck all? Ah well...’”

I still don’t know exactly how Kakashi gets past my Security Seals, I know almost anyone else would get liquefied the moment they touched the window frame, but somehow he slips through just fine to let me slide onto the tiny couch in the closet which has the audacity to call itself a living room in the ANBU issue cover apartment, standing desolate, messy, and mostly abandoned save for my precious kit-cat. I don’t think crazy-cat-boy is a trope, but I’ll do my damndest.

Kakashi’s white hair is blaring into the dark as he tries to give me a slightly humorous look, but I can see other things lurking behind that particular mask. I’m getting better.

I can’t name any of those things though, so obviously not _that_ much better.

“Rokudaime, ey? What _was_ the Hokage thinking?”

I’m still leaking a little from most of my face holes. Gross. But I wipe the majority of it off with a sleeve and shake my head.

“Nah, see, that’s what I mean. Things were different. You never had my squad, they failed for some reason. And now, I _told_ you, so will you try to get it? Or try _not_ to get it? Will you become Hokage because I mentioned it, or avoid it because of the perdic- predica- future thing? I don’t _know_ now. Better to just be quiet.”

It is silent enough for several minutes that I start to think Kakashi might have left, until a soft voice breaks the stillness.

“You’re wrong, you know. You weren’t my least favorite student.”

I snort and sniffle at the same time which leads to my sinuses doing very unpleasant things. When I reorient myself I laugh properly a little, though tears are still trickling slowly.

“It’s okay, you don’t have ta lie. Fukin creepy kid, don’t know how to smile right. All my fault. Tried to be strong and it didn’ work, it never worked. Tried to cheat on the bell test a little, you know? Knew what you’d do, knew what you’d look for, but I couldn’t make it work, and then you passed us anyway, and now Wasabi and Nikkei ‘re dead ‘cause of something that didn’t even _matter_. ‘Tachi didn’t care about how strong I was, just that I _begged_ , ‘n the other guy didn’t care about anything at all. All my fault. So fuggin useless.”

Kakashi sits next to me on the couch making me tip over a little at the sudden weight pressing down on the cushions, and when I try to right myself he pulls me down, my head in his lap and his hand in my hair. I wiggle a little bit because it’s a tight fit, but he doesn’t let me get away, and I am just so tired of everything.

“There’s nothing anyone can do except their best. You weren’t useless Hiroki. It wasn’t your fault. Sometimes things just happen.”

I shake my head, making a mess of his pants with all the goop on my face.

“Strength is Life, and I wasn’ strong enough. If I was better-”

“Nothing would have changed. You did what you could, Hiroki, and that’s all anyone can ask for.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes, Kakashi’s hand lightly petting my hair while we both marinate with our thoughts. Eventually, Taicho tilts my head a bit to smile faintly at me.

“Hey, your birthday is coming up right? Twelve years old! Want to have a party?”

“Three months ago, Sensei. Hate parties.”

I shake my head and nuzzle deeper into his chest, chill air of the apartment giving me shivers as I clutch just a little tighter. The tears have stopped, and now I just want to not think for a while, relaxing in the warmth of a teacher who finally cares.

“Nah. Just… stay with me a little longer.”

His hand keeps up its soothing strokes as he hums quietly under his breath.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Hiroki, happy birthday to you…”

 

.   .   .

 

A/N: More Feels!

 

I don;t think it likely that Naruto would be genuinely mistreated; the shopkeeper was justifiably irritated after Naruto broke something and just overreacted. Being mean to Jinchuriki is grounds for the worlds fastest Darwin Award.


	21. Contrast 2.6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moderate Torture, Implied Non-con

April 12, 10 AK

I should have been paying more attention. This is my fault. It’s my fault I got caught, my fault I’m chained to a metal table, my fault my bare ass is getting frostbite from the stupid cold mountain air of some podunk Kumo outpost on the outskirts of Land of Fire. I hope Wolf-taicho isn’t beating himself up, he’s such a softie under all that indifference. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

“You’re going to tell us everything eventually, everyone does. You know this, I know this, the Kages know this; come on, don’t feel _bad_ , it’s just how these things go. Make it easier on yourself.”

The searing light is gleaming off all the stainless steel, a maze of mirrors half-reflecting to infinity. Amidst all the metal the warm nut brown skin of the Kumo-nin is rather out of place but not nearly as eye catching as his hair, the pale yellow almost lightning bright in the glow of fluorescent lights.

A faint sigh forces its way out. Why- No.

‘Why’ is a useless question. ‘How’, now _that’s_ a useful question, but… This _is_ happening. I _should_ have been keeping my eyes out for traps, I _should_ have been sticking closer to my team so a squad of enemy ninja couldn’t just set off some explosive tags and drag me underground. Oh well, live and learn. I mean, who expects _Kumo_ ninja to use _Earth_ techniques?

“Are you even listening?”

The white haired Kumo-nin snaps another finger. Ow.

“Ow.”

That gets a laugh out of his blonde partner. I offer them both a look of disdainful blankness.

“Hah! You hear that? ‘Ow’ he says! Hahahaha, Oh man! Break another.”

_Snap._

Don’t _look_ at it. The human is a primarily visual animal, if you don’t look at it it won’t hurt as much, just _ignore_ it-

“Hey, wait, I wanna try something.”

There is an unpleasant sizzling sound and the room begins to smell like burning flesh as electric current plays over my skin, setting me to twitching as an involuntary gasp forces its way out of my throat. Okay, _that_ hurts even without looking, let’s see, how do we treat that, focus on _that_ , gonna need to wash it, burns can get infected so _easily_ if you aren’t careful-

“The Itsy-Bitsy spider went up the water spout.”

“What’s that?”

The flesh is weak, the body is fallible, but that isn’t me, it isn’t _me_ , the _mind_ is strong-

“Down came the rain and washed the spider out.”

 _Crack._ Oh that sounded important, not sure what that was, collar bone maybe, having a little trouble breathing now, don’t _look-_

“Out came the sun and dried up all the rain.”

“We’ll just need to try harder then won’t we?”

I tilt my head just enough to look into blondie's eyes, he’d be pretty under other circumstances, pale blue eyes and light hair a lovely contrast with the dark skin, nice big muscles, see, I can do this, I can _do_ this, I am _fine-_

“And the Itsy-Bitsy Spider went up the spout again.”

A fist to the face, not good, for me or them. Loss of coherency, sloppy work really, he’d get a failing grade if he was my student, can’t feel as much pain, lessens the impact but clouds the mind, _not_ good, focus, _focus-_

“See; I know you must have gotten a pretty decent amount of conditioning from ANBU, even a little guy like you. That’s why they give you those mantras, helps you focus on something else. But here’s the thing.”

The filthy, smelly, repulsive, vile Kumo-nin leans in close, a mammoth hand clasping around my skull to force me to look into his eyes as I try to get my breath back, but I’m not really looking at _him_ , why would I do that, he’s so _boring_ and _stupid-_

“Everyone has a crack somewhere. And I’m going to find it. And then, you’re going to spill everything. _Everything_. You’ll want to, so badly you’ll be begging me to tell what you know to get me to stop.”

His moist breath is close by my ear as he whispers his words to me, like that’ll force me to pay attention, as if he can actually touch _me-_

“And I won’t stop.”

He lets my head go and it thumps gently on the table, letting me refocus on the ceiling. Such a dull color, such a boring slate grey, why not add some _flair_ , some _pizzaz-_

I hear a zipper being undone and the terrible, no-good, dumb, torturer gets uncomfortably inside my personal space, body almost branding heat against my shivering and freezing flesh, _hate_ the cold, _hate_ it, heat is worse though, this isn’t _so_ bad-

What is he- Oh.

...This is going to be unpleasant.

.           .           .

It is.

.           .           .

I _hate_ sleep deprivation, so lame, least fun, such annoy, _wow_ , I just, just want to close my eyes for a _minute_ and-

 _Thud_.

My head bounces off the steel table again, hard enough to rattle me but not enough to risk real injury. I yank on the restraints hard in reflex, padded leather cuffs dulling the clank of the chains. Smart. Metal cuffs are abrasive, you can break a finger to slip out, you can cut yourself and use the blood to lubricate-

Blood is a terrible lube. A fact I am becoming quite familiar with.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid-_

A surge of cold on my face brings forth a tiny involuntary sound, not a shriek, not a scream, more of a gasp, a shocked inhalation, and now there is water in my mouth, and I can’t breathe, _I can’t breathe_ -

Stupid body, like thrashing is going to help, ignore it, the Mind is superior, I must not fear-

“What do you think, a couple more days?”

Whitey hums in mock thought, finger tapping his chin as I splutter enough water out to breathe again. Bad cop, worse cop, honestly, get some new material already, there’s _old_ and then there’s _paleolithic_ , am I right-

“I dunno, probably less. I mean, he’s gotta know his team isn’t coming. It’s been three days; even if they bothered to look they obviously aren’t going to find him. You _do_ know that, right?”

I track over every line, every wrinkle, every freckle, every blemish on his face as he leans in over me, sneering like they think they’ve already won, like I really expect someone _else_ to come and get me, I hate him, I _hate_ him, I am me, I am _Hiroki_ , I have beaten _death_ , these pissants have _nothing_ on _me-_

I shift my jaw and crack the little capsule stuck in my rear right molar. The poison is not for me though, and the stream of sticky saliva and faintly caustic toxin hits him right in the eyes.

“Ahh!”

Blondie pushes his friend away and punches me in the stomach hard enough that I feel something pop. Blood splatters across his arm as it sprays out of my mouth but I manage to giggle around bloody teeth, lips stretched wide in glee, Ha Ha _HA-_

“Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ , don’t you know, can’t you see, what’s black and white and red all over, it’s you, it’s _you_ , and I’m _still_ alive, and when you’re dead I’ll _dance on your grave_ -”

Whitey has finished scrubbing most of the gunk out of his eyes, more angry than injured. It isn’t really meant to be applied via the skin, but his eyes are dilating, so it’s working, I can see, _I_ can _see-_

“Little prick, I’m gonna make you _wish_ you were dead!”

The slap of flesh on flesh is boring, boring, _boring_ , even if it does jerk the broken things inside me, sending shooting pain through my guts, annoying that, can’t patch it myself, _and_ I have to keep my hips tilted _just_ so, come on, come on, _come on_ -

A hand reaches down to the cuff on my left leg, unhooking my foot from the table and pushing my thigh towards my shoulder so he can get a better angle.

YES. Stupid, stupid, _stupid-_

He twitches, and my foot moves.

Poisons which aren’t strictly lethal aren’t very popular, but I find them useful enough. This one is called Trictate, for some reason, and is favoured for civilian assassinations because it makes the target lose inhibitions and experience effects somewhat similar to strong drink. It can often lead to pseudo-drunken brawls or fits of rage, potential cover for the sudden death. In this instance, it means my tormentor was dumb enough to leave one of my limbs free.

The Seal on my chest still burns, leeching my chakra away, keeping me weak, but I have always been good at using what little I have. Besides, Taijutsu doesn’t take much energy.

My eyes turn on for a brief moment, even that small strain a bone deep and aching tug on my diminished reserves, but I _need_ them for this, because while he was distracted my foot slipped into his weapon pouch and pulled out a pair of kunai. One into the side of blondie’s neck dropping him with a gurgle, one flipping up, and _up_ , and caught in my teeth.

It is a brief, fierce joy to know that the surprise on his face will be etched into my brain forever.

I SURVIVE.

The spray of arterial blood from his neck is pleasantly warm, though I know that it won’t stay that way for long. My one free limb pushes the dead meat off and I lean forward enough to pass the blade back to my foot. Picking the lock of the other foot cuff is a chore but the eventual click of the lock is sweeter than honey. I curl up, ignoring the searing agony still coming from my abdomen, and roll backwards off the table, twisting the chains keeping my hands in place around to bring them closer to my face again. The kunai goes back in my mouth, and these locks are defeated much faster.

I AM FREE.

My hands are useless, fingers far too damaged to form hand-signs or hold a blade firmly, so the kunai stays in my teeth as I fumble my tortuous way through the corpse's pockets.

I don’t have much time, but this pair were obviously poorly trained. Did they even know what they were looking for? Did they even _know-_

Bingo. Chakra pills.

The cap comes off and two are swallowed immediately, a third tucked under my tongue for later. Too many at once is bad for you yaknow, gotta keep those _ruptured kidneys_ in tip-top shape-

The rush of energy which floods through me in the wake of tearing off the Seal tag is glorious. My eyes spin all the way up and I dart from the room, pulses of medical chakra running through the network of my legs to deaden the pain and preserve the flesh from damage as I bounce off the walls of the exterior corridor, kunai clenched in my teeth as I tear through the squad guarding the exit path like an angry god.

Within moments I am out of the small outpost and shooting down the mountain, the mad dash only kept from becoming borderline suicidal by grace of my Sharingan, more than one fall avoided only by bare margins as I flee towards the forest visible just beyond the foothills.

Run, Run, _RUN-_

I lose track of time. It was nearing midday when I got out, I think. Sometime after the sun has set I swallow the other chakra pill, but even when that fades I keep going, keep moving, don’t stop, don’t look back, I am _free_ , I am _alive_ , I _will not die_ -

How long has it been? Two days since I got out? More? Less? I don’t care how bright it is, the Sharingan sees everything regardless, though I am so, _so_ tired now. Do I have it on right now? Did I turn it off? Is it _ever_ really off?

I can barely put one foot in front of the other; the faintly felt but properly coded signal pulse of chakra is responded to instinctively. I change course and dig deep, searching for that fifth wind, breaking into a jog which ends only when I slip on a patch of mud and my knees slam into the leaf litter. I do not fall. _I will never fall_. But I cannot make myself get up either. Oh well.

There is a faint stirring at the edge of the little clearing and I force exhausted eyes to focus on the figure perched on a branch above me. The kunai falls from my stiff and cramping mouth with a sticky tearing noise to thud gently on the carpet of yellowed leaves as I smile brokenly at Wolf through the fluids crusted all over my face and body.

“Taicho, I want to go home now.”

.           .           .

It happens. Shit happens. Sometimes it sucks, sometimes it’s great, but we can’t let it bog us down. Then where would we be? Dead, that’s where.

The whole point of ANBU is deniability so it isn’t like Kumo will be getting _or_ sending so much as an angry letter, and that is just fine by me. I am _alive_ , and they are _dead_.

Morphine is _fantastic_.

The ceiling of the hospital room is a cheerful peach-orange, and it is just _gorgeous_ , whoever picked this color deserves an _award_ , oh hey Kakashi-sensei!

“How are you doing?”

“I am fine. Fffiiinnneee. Fie nuh. Fee nay. You ever say a word so often it stops sounding like a word?”

Kakashi drops into the chair next to the bed and sighs, head in his hands. Don’t be sad. I push a sluggish bit of chakra through my system and clear away a trace of the drug induced fog, the bright sunlight gaining an edge it didn’t have before.

“Hey. Seriously. I’m okay Taicho. It happens.”

He slumps just a little bit in the chair, poofy hair waving slightly. I wonder if it’s soft? I’ve never gotten the chance to touch it before…

“What happened to you should never happen to anyone. Let alone a twelve year old, Chou.”

“Almost thirteen.”

I shrug very gently, relaxing slightly into the bed as my eyes drift back towards the ceiling, but even that little motion pulls gently at the bandages and staples and sends twinges of pain through my bones. Medical ninja can fix just about anything so long as your heart’s still beating, but some stuff just takes _time_ , letting the body’s natural healing mechanisms do their thing. I’ll probably be out in a week, tops. I don’t mind. Pain is proof of life.

“I- You need to talk about. It. With someone. I’m, here. If you…”

Sensei pulls in a deep breath and sits up a little straighter, looking at my placid face for a moment and almost visibly fighting to keep up the strong facade despite the urge to cringe at my bandage covered form.

“Was- when they... was that your… first-”

“Hey.”

I interrupt him, jolting him out of the shame spiral he’s probably already circling.

“I signed up for this. I knew the risks, and I considered the benefit to be worth it. I am _fine_.”

I let my eyes slip closed and exhale slowly, briefly enjoying the warm sunlight streaming in through the diaphanous curtains hanging over window. Spring is my favorite time of year, and the smell and color of new growth is a comfort beyond the merely physical. This is peace, knowing that others experience concern for me; there is nothing better. I _matter_.

“This is not me. I am an idea, a thought, a collection of memories. _This_ , is not me. The _flesh,_ is not _me_. The thing which makes the noises you give meaning is _not me_. I am the purpose _behind_ the noises. I am the mind that _comprehends_ the meaning. I am the _urge_ that pushes the body to action, and nothing that affects this fragile shell of meat affects _me_ unless I allow it too. _We_ are not meat. We are a _perspective_.”

Sensei is quiet for a long moment as I blink slowly at him, the quiet rhythm of his breath a soothing counterpoint to the small beeps coming from the heart monitor. He finally slumps slightly in his chair, relaxing in acknowledgment of my own acceptance, and runs a hand through his unruly mane, briefly flattening the pale locks before they spring right back up in abject defiance of gravity.

“...Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

I let a small and genuine smile twitch briefly over my lips. It is good to be home.

.   .   .

A/N: ANBU is not fun. :(

We are not flesh. We are a perspective.


	22. Contrast 2.7

 

Life in ANBU adopts a smooth rhythm, a melody of each team member’s strengths. Kakashi is the core, the central pillar, the broad strokes of soft color to tell us ‘this is night’, or ‘this is day’, or ‘this is a place’. Tenzo is major elements, the environment itself, the walls, the ground, the sky, lines and shades to build a sheltered glade, or growth shadowed by storm clouds; the edges of the world. Yugao fills the space thus defined, the subject of the painting in vibrant orange and purple, drawing the eye and giving the setting provided by the others direction and focus. And I? I am all the little details which surround them, the sun-bright petals on the dandelion, the chips in the mug’s apple-red glaze, the gentle white pearl in the ear.

Never is this more apparent than when I am in my favorite spot, floating in the tranquil ‘outside’ of events. My eyes spool up to hummingbird quickness and the combat below slows in turn as I glide through the air, all trace of my existence suppressed below a whisper, the single drop of blood in an ocean which calls to the hungry shark. Which is also me. I love metaphors!

And I love my eyes, for they let me see… everything. The world lays itself bare before me, all the chains of cause and effect plain to see, the sublime spinning of the celestial spheres in all their glittering grandeur.

He will strike _here_ , so Taicho will block _there_ , and a window will form _then_ , staying open _just_ long enough so my senbon traveling at _just_ such a speed will embed itself in the enemy’s neck, right as he tries to shift like _that…_ and Kakashi’s blade slides home like silk over polished bones.

But that is not the _only_ thing I can do, it is not the only path I can take, the only shift in the pattern of the battle I can produce with so very little effort as glimmering ruby eyes shine through the holes of my mask, searching, ever hungry, for those _perfect_ moments where the cosmos can be brought into an alignment which transcends mere elegance to become something which brushes the divine.

But Perfection is the enemy of the Good Enough, so even while I shift to search anew for my sublime Moment the needle slips my hand, future already decided by my will alone which sets the wheels in motion.

My landing on the rock which borders the far side of the clearing is a spring compressing, another molasses moment as I choose the next target.

You know what they say: do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.

Most of our missions are not so exhilarating, only about half take us outside of the village, and fortunately less than a quarter of those are the sort that might require lots of alcohol afterword. I drink less, even though I’m getting better at holding my liquor, and try to make the evenings more fun, dancing with Yugao, Anko if she’s around, and sometimes Kakashi if he’s actually had a few for once. The few times I drag Tenzo off the stool to shake his rather superb butt on the dance floor he stumbles through half a dozen steps before blushing furiously the first time someone starts giving him an interested look and retreating back to the bar. There is no past in ANBU, no future, only an endless series of ‘now’, beads on a string to be taken as they come and cherished before disappearing forever.

Maybe an outsider would not describe the current state as ‘good’, but it is… _stable_. The equilibrium is workable, the bonds are building, slowly, perhaps not as robust as they might one day become, but real, a sapling just on the verge of breaking through the canopy into the sun. Kakashi doesn’t open up, but sometimes he’ll at least let the mask slip a little, just enough that real emotions can glimmer beneath the surface.

I think he’s getting better, honestly. He isn’t stiff, and he doesn’t keep everyone at arm’s length. He is a little bit more ready to trust, a little bit more of that man he would-have-could-have been. He even starts reading Icha Icha, after one too many comments from your’s truly, and it seems to do for him what petting my cat does for me. Something to do with your hands while your mind is somewhere else.

But sadly, no system is stable forever. Oh entropy, my greatest foe.

.           .           .

March 4, 11 AK

Fucking Iwa-nin. Fucking explosion corps. Fucking… fuck.

The bomb is flying for Cat’s back, and Wolf and Otter are occupied with the larger threats. This moment seems oddly familiar, but I can’t place where… Oh well. Support ninja: support!

I throw myself in the way of the bomb, knocking Cat out of the radius of the explosion and getting nailed myself. The pain is horrendous, I can feel all of my ribs shattering, and the flesh searing and ear rupturing aren’t fun either. Fucking nausea, ow. But we’re Konoha-nin, so comrades dying in battle is just, like, a universal power-up. Otter and Wolf decapitate and spear their respective targets in the next few seconds and Cat binds one in his Wood-release for later. _I_ get to slump against the tree trunk and wait to die. I still don’t know how or even if I can make Izanagi trigger intentionally, so I just need to wait till I finish bleeding out or, whatever...

Otter and Cat rush after the last one, fleeing now, and Wolf is next to me in a second.

“Squirrel, status.”

The tone is clipped, but I think I can detect the faint stirrings of panic beneath the surface layer of professional detachment.

How sweet, he does care. I was like, 90% sure, but sometimes he tries to play things off as a joke, or the mask is a bit too thick for me to see through, so I’m not able to make a concrete determination.

I can’t quite get my breath back so I raise a single hand in thumbs up, trying to reassure him a little, but the motion causes something to shift in my chest, a broken rib puncturing my lung. The spark of agony makes me gasp, which tears the lung more, and I start seizing a little as my body tries to draw in air but recoils from the pain, all while my lungs fill with blood. Damn it, drowning sucks.

I _still_ can’t keep my composure, because even though I try to stay calm and detached from what’s happening the gnawing dread is consuming all of my brain function.

Hiroki splits into two layers. The top is rational, and scared, but able to think. What if it doesn’t work this time? What if the first time was a fluke? Why did _Kakashi_ have to be the one to watch this, he’s already so fragile...

Sadly the lower layer is the one driving the bus though and it is nothing but static and screaming, the horrified certainty that _this_ , this is **The End** , and there is nothing but the grinding emptiness waiting just past the last gasp of panicked breath.

I try to stay still but my limbs move without me, scrambling for purchase on my captain’s flack jacket, clutching desperately at Taicho, who is stiff with horror as blood starts to splatter out the bottom of my mask in time with the little half-breaths. I slump back off the tree as everything fades to black, and I die for the second time.

.           .           .

I think riding on Kakashi’s back might be my favorite thing in the world. I’m getting a little big for it now, though, puberty is hitting me like a hammer and I must have grown nearly twenty centimeters in the last year alone.

Taicho must feel my renewed movement because he stops suddenly and slides me off of his back and onto the branch of the tree, hands on my shoulders as he looks me up and down with a slightly frantic intensity.

“Told you everything was okay.”

My voice is rough and my whole body is sore. Fucking Izanagi, doesn’t even work right. Or maybe it does, I don’t know. Saved my ass again. Guess that’s a pattern, though now my other original eye is useless. Oh well, it was starting to get a bit fuzzy from overuse anyway.

I reach with shaky limbs for the collar of my shirt, and Wolf helps me undo the buttons. I press a finger to the Seal below my collar bone and retrieve one of the tubes from inside. Most of the salvaged Sharingan are much more well hidden, but I keep a few singletons packed in the Seal on my chest for emergencies like this.

“Gonna need to take off m’ mask. Genjutsu?”

Wolf shakes his head, and a sign to Cat has him surrounding us in a ball of totally concealing wood. Otter and Cat stay outside to keep watch while I pull off the mask with wavering limbs. One eye is clearly dead, and I can feel the trail of blood leaking from it as I poke at the area gingerly.

I glance at Kakashi with the functioning eye, then look away as I pull out a scalpel. Steady hands when they’re needed, that’s what you get from ANBU. No room for error when you’re poking around in your own eye socket with a sharp object.

Old eye comes out and plops into the solution. New eye goes in, and the tube is sealed away. I think this one was from cousin Soramaki. Never spoke to him in person, but he was competent. Hopefully his eye will work well.

I blink a few times while applying the Mystic Palm, rolling my gaze around to shift the organ and make sure everything connects properly, focusing on Kakashi when it finally does.

“I’m sorry.”

He still has his mask on, and his body language is, as always, suppressed to nonexistence now that immediate danger has passed. But I think he is likely feeling… not so great.

I tidy up a bit, finishing putting everything away neatly, wiping some of the blood of my face and mask and avoiding eye contact all the while. Eventually I finish and with nothing left to do I pull my safe ceramic face back on.

One word slips into the close silence of our little timber shelter.

“How?”

I stand and face him, mask to mask in the dim brown space of the bubble.

“Wasabi did for me what Rin did for you. I have but one life to give, and Konoha will get it over and over again. Strength is Life-”

“Service is Purpose.”

He nods as he completes my motto, and I think we understand each other a bit better.

Dying still sucks.

 

 

.   .   .

 

A/N: And now Kakashi has been pushed a little bit too far with all this nonsense. I'm not sure if I nailed the portrayal properly, but I've always felt that Kakashi is a very private and closed off person. He is always composed of three layers: Top mask, blank mask, real feelings. Sometimes the Top mask will mimic the real feelings, but even when that does happen their is an element of exaggeration to help obfuscate any sincerity.

So Hiroki was pretty sure that Kakashi actually felt something, but not certain. Their is a subtle but important line between obligation and genuine emotion, and, like me, Hiroki is always second guessing that. Does Kakashi actually feel anything about him? Or is it just part of his job as ANBU captain to ensure the relative health of his operatives?

Audio accompaniment to the fight scene: Adagio Sostenuto by Orsten


	23. Contrast 2.8

“ANBU Squirrel, Code name Chou, for your commendable actions in the field in saving the life of a comrade, after due consideration by the ANBU commander and Jounin commander, and the recommendation of your team captain, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Jounin.”

I stare at the scroll the Hokage hands me with incomprehension, the earth lilting under my feet, the sky becoming floor, the vase becoming a face, the alignment of axioms shifting towards a new, fractal vector.

I do not _understand_ this world. I do not _want_ a promotion, it is not something I was _trying_ for. More, it is not necessarily a _good_ thing. The following little speech about duty and honor and the Will of Fire washes over me, registered and recorded, for that is the ANBU way, but unprocessed in this moment as I am set adrift, the surreal corollary of this moment to the last time I stood before Hiruzen. The light was colder then, but the soft green-tint cast over the beiges and browns of the office through the leaves of the surrounding trees is no less dreamlike. I had just died then too, is that how it works for me now? I can only get recognition when I die? That’s sort of…

“Awful.”

The word falls from my lips quietly, and Sarutobi pauses with a raised eyebrow.

“What was that?”

I hold the scroll back out to him and shake my head.

“Apologies Hokage-sama, but I do not believe I am deserving of a promotion at this time.”

He chews on the stem of his pipe for a long moment, inspecting me minutely while his teeth click quietly against the worn wood.

“Are you sure? I’ve read your file and _I_ think you are.”

I shake my head again.

“I am not strong enough yet. And my actions were not so chivalrous as to warrant recognition.”

The Hokage looks at me with cool assessment, a single eyebrow raised.

“I didn’t realize you had learned how to use Izanagi deliberately.”

I want to shift under his scrutiny but ANBU has knocked all of those little motions out of me. The new nervous tick is a notable _absence_ of ticks, an unnatural stillness interrupted only by the swiveling of my eyes.

“...I have not, yet, but an obvious precedent was set. I was in little danger. Even if that was a _minor_ risk, I still feel that I am unlikely to be able to live up to the demands set by such a prestigious position.”

I clench my hands just a little bit, leather and metal of my bracers creaking faintly, but stand firm, suggestion of something which is certainly not a pout thankfully hidden by my mask.

“I’ve never even beaten Wolf-taicho in a spar or anything…”

A very small smile forms on the edge of his lips.

“Your standards must be much more stringent than Konoha’s then. If you did not know that you would survive, only guessed, then it was still an extreme act of courage. Besides, could not the bomb have damaged your eyes too much for you to use such a technique?”

I hadn't thought of that, and the sudden realization makes me blink in reflex. I could have _really_ died. The Hokage pressed on over my shocked comprehension.

“Beyond that, Kakashi-kun is an _S-rank ninja_. That you can even hold your own in a spar is testament to an impressive level of strength. That you can’t beat him is not a mark _against_ you.”

I still don’t like this, even if I appreciate the Hokage’s reasoning. My mouth wants to twist into a perturbed line, but I can’t actually find a flaw in Hiruzen’s logic. And yet it feels like, like, _cheating_ or...

“...Is this an order, Hokage-sama?”

He leans back in his chair and sighs a little, looking all of his more than seventy years all at once as a thin blue streamer of smoke coils into the air.

“No. It is not. But I think placing you in ANBU long term is perhaps not the best course. This promotion will give you an opportunity to shift to more surface level missions. You can still be part of Wolf Unit, and run missions with them, but we need to start building you a public persona as well. Even if we aren’t going to reveal your identity just yet.”

The bowl of the pipe makes a muffled thump as the Hokage knocks out the faded embers.

“Wolf will be surfacing a bit as well, for similar reasons. I’m going to see if he would be willing to take another Genin team. The first produced such exceptional ninja.”

The surge of empty regret hits me like a physical wave and for a moment I cannot breathe. I blink rapidly to clear any moisture which might have accumulated under the mask.

Well, if Kakashi-sensei is starting to get back into the public sphere… There is a twinkle in the Hokage’s eye and I know, that _he_ knows, that I know that he has won. I sigh, very quietly, and pull off my mask, the lens-like clarity of the world viewed through the eyeholes fading away. Farewell, halcyon days.

“Very well Hokage-sama.”

He hands me back the scroll with a very small smile.

“Congratulations, Hiroki-Jounin.”

.           .           .

Choices are an unpleasant epiphany. I haven’t had to think about so much for a very long time.

When I was a stupid, _stupid_ , child, there was only ever the goal, the light at the end of the tunnel, the target to sprint towards with not a moment to think.

What do you want for the future?

To live to my twelfth birthday.

Well, wish granted.

When that passed it was replaced with ANBU, which was better because I did not need to push myself, merely obey instructions. It was a sort of bliss, a minor ecstasy, the mechanicality of it all. Not having to choose means not being responsible for failure. There was no ‘try’ only the command to ‘ _do_ ’, so I _did_. The endless click, click, clicking of well oiled and precision machined gears, sliding against each other in a frictionless symphony of motion producing product. Sure that product was mostly ‘dead people’, but that has never really bothered me except in a dim, distant way.

But now there is no great machine; now there is just me. No more Squirrel, only Hiroki.

Not being ANBU means not having a uniform, so I need to buy my own clothes for the first time in my life. I still favor dark grey, mostly in shades of green and brown, though occasionally slightly blue. The shirts are sleeveless now, to keep the bracers sitting easy on my bandage wrapped arms, and come with a hood because the sunlight is annoying when I’m out in it all the time rather than skulking about at night or under a mask. The Genjutsu woven into the lining casts a shadow over my eyes to help conceal Sharingan usage and helps with… emotional leakage. As does the so-red-it’s-black mask in the same fashion as Kakashi-taicho’s. That it makes me look like a terrifying wraith assassin is completely coincidental, and at any rate rather spoiled by me being barely 14 and rather gangly from my newly acquired height. I’ll grow into it.

_Uchiha_ Hiroki is still dead, but it is not so uncommon a first name that I need another, so I join the ranks of shinobi with only a single appellation; standard practice for orphans, which I qualify as anyway.

It also means I need a new apartment. The one originally registered to Uchiha Hiroki is long gone, since the massacre, and the ANBU quarters aren’t an option anymore.

The new place is still small, though not quite tiny, painted all over in a pale lavender, with an extra room for guests or as an office, and a living room large enough that it can double as a little dining room. I keep the tiny couch. Now it has friends though, a trio of bookshelves, sadly empty.

I always loved books, but there has seemed less point with a photographic memory; it would be a minor comfort to have them around again. The bookshelves are nice for decoration at least, especially once they are all filled with various and sundry tomes and scrolls.

One subject per shelf, neat and tidy. The first case filled is for the important things.

Fuinjutsu, Poisons, Genjutsu, Speed-style Taijutsu, Iryo-ninjutsu.

The other two are for… hobbies, I suppose.

Puppetry, Kenjutsu, Bukijutsu, Technique Creation, Gardening, Earth Element Ninjutsu, Fire Element Ninjutsu, Origami, Strong-style Taijutsu, Gentle-style Taijutsu, Politics, Bloodlines, Flower Arranging, Fabled Kinjutsu…

Most of the collection is transient, scrolls borrowed for a few days or books bought, memorized, and resold. Only a few are worth holding on to for longer, to keep the shelves looking used, encyclopedias and primers and a handful of coded notebooks written in a phonetic transposition using the scraps of English I can still remember. It is a slight surprise how many such repositories of knowledge exist, given ninja paranoia, but I suppose that is one of the perks of being an ex-ANBU Jounin. Trust. Though it may also be an indicator of how widely known or frequently stolen the information is.

Actual decoration is unnecessary, but a few potted plants near the windows hold herbs with useful properties for medicine or poison (there is frequently little difference), and I… well. I’ve always liked collecting things, and ANBU took us all over so… one wall features a thick board with a line of Hitai-ate pinned to it from various villages, a few of them rather scuffed and worn, but most in a generally good condition (genjutsu leaves few marks). I have almost the complete set, one from each major village and six of the ten minor ones. Even one from Hot-Springs! Very rare those; the village doesn’t even exist anymore. A few of them were rather hard to get, like the Leaf headband I took off a missing-nin, but I am looking forward to completing the set one day; it will be very hard to get an Uzushio headband though, and some might think it in rather poor taste.

Running missions that aren’t as high stress is… nice? I still have trouble with less _intense_ interaction, but I do okay, mostly, I think. I don’t become bosom buddies with everyone I work with, but I can at least conclude most missions on cordial, almost friendly terms with my fellow Leaf-nin, the tension of a youth spent in near perpetual panic paradoxically eased by years in blackops.

It also means I have more private time to work on myself and my own pursuits. ANBU was excellent for physical conditioning and developing my now near perfect chakra control, but it leaves little time to improve your other skills, which always takes a little bit of experimentation. Some of it literal.

Ninja are, by nature, acquisitive, ambitious, and willing to grab at anything that might help them get ahead. However there are some lines of research they have never considered valuable enough to pursue with the requisite dedication to see the payout. I’m not really a chemist, but I know what you can make from the mold which grows on wheat. LSD will make a nice complement to my Genjutsu repertoire.

With a bit of time on my hands I am able to invent two new jutsu variants. The Twitch-Flicker is exactly what it says on the bottle; a short range, very rapid derivation of the Body Flicker which is just enough to reposition the limbs for a block or a strike. Ghostfire is a strain of Grand Fireball, but rarified to have no visible component, just a wave of searingly hot air projected from the mouth. They’ll never know what hit them. Or broiled them, as the case may be.

I can try new things too, for with a matured Sharingan and my current level of physical conditioning I can develop proficiency in whatever I please fairly rapidly. Swords are still cool, and acquiring something like a mid-Chunin level of skill in kenjutsu is the work of only a week; reading scrolls, watching the few practitioners in the village, getting a feel for the art with some practice katas. It becomes a new way to relax, whenever my training stalls in a core area, to become competent in another branch of the ninja arts. Mastery is impractical, most of these skills will never see use, but if patching the hole is easy enough...

It is nice to see obvious progress occasionally, especially given the setbacks I am encountering in other areas; despite my best efforts I’m not really making much progress with my Seals. I may need dedicated instruction from someone knowledgeable, which basically means Jiraiya, Danzo, or Hiruzen. None of whom are likely to have the time or the inclination towards helping me.

I do make one interesting discovery though: apparently cousin Soramaki was sandbagging. He had a Mangekyou as well. Makes sense, honestly. More than a Hundred Uchiha ninja, most had their Sharingan active, and none of them awakened the Mangekyou? The change isn’t especially noticeable appearance wise, but the ability is nice.

_Fuujin_ ; Line-of-sight teleportation. About as costly in chakra as a Body Flicker over a hundred meter distance, so not _cheap_ , but the cost stays constant regardless of distance where the Shunshin grows more expensive, and more importantly the new technique leaves no trail of chakra to follow, nothing for the enemy to track so they might anticipate my arrival point. I can get from my apartment to anywhere in the village in about two blinks. Not as good as Kamui or anything, but… efficient.

I finally manage to trigger Susanoo as well, and it is that which really makes it clear to me what my eyes are _for_.

My Susanoo is only about thrice the height of a full grown man. Tiny, compared to all others. It does not come with a sword, but with a longbow, and though the arrows are not bullshit sealing nonsense, they _are_ special, for they suppress chakra. Of dubious utility in most cases, I shouldn’t wonder, given that the arrows are wrist thick and almost as long as the construct is tall so most of what I shoot should be dead _anyway_ , but it perfectly exemplifies the paradigm. Efficiency. Low cost, low reward, repeatable, reusable, distant.

I’m not sure if my eye is now an Eternal, I sort of doubt it, actually, but it is unlikely to be relevant regardless at the rate I need to swap them out. But they make me _safe_ , they make me, not dangerous, but _difficult_.

Sasuke and Itachi can keep their Amaterasu. I have no need of it.

.           .           .

A/N: Hiroki is actually experiencing a fairly steady linear increase in strength. He has now been an active ninja for about 6 years. 2.5 as a Genin, 1 as Chunin, 2.5 as ANBU.  
  
Important to note: When Hiroki told Nikkei that the Sharingan doesn't make you great at everything, he was telling the truth. Most of his skills are Jounin standard, something new like Kenjutsu is coming in at a low-Chunin level. If he tired to fight Zabuza with a sword, he would get his ass handed to him. But, he now knows enough about the topic to be useful; he can spot flaws in someone's form more easier, for example, because he has at least a working knowledge of the topic.


	24. Bonus Scene: Promotion Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essentially Canon, taking place immediately before 2.8

Hiruzen coughed gently, polite smiling growing somewhat fixed as he tried to get the attention of the ANBU Captain and Elite Jounin standing in his office staring at the wall.

“So, Kakashi-kun… how are thi-”

“If I have to go on one more mission with Hiroki I will _literally die_.”

The old man blinked. Surely it couldn’t be that bad.

“Ahh, I’m sor-”

“I mean, at first I thought, well, at least they aren’t _all_ dead, right? One student managed to not die horribly, everything is cool. _But_ , then we went on our first proper mission, and I don’t even know _what_ he did, but after three minutes of staring that Iwa-nin was spilling his guts and Hiroki was _puking up_ his guts-”

“He _wha-_ ”

“And, yeah, being the sole and entire emotional support structure for another person was awful and hard, but then, I thought, hell, it’s not _that_ different from taking care of ninken, and the spray bottle worked pretty well at getting him to drink less and not get snot all over my shirts when he turned maudlin at the end of every binge session-”

“Spray bot-?”

“And sure, there was that _thing_ with the Kumo-nin, but I mean, he killed all of them afterward and he seemed, you know, more or less okay, so I figured, heck, maybe this will sort of, stabilize you know? I mean, he’s always just so _okay_ with everything, you know? ‘Stangle these puppies!’ ‘Yes Taicho!’, ‘Burn down that orphanage!’ ‘Right away Sensei!’, so I thought, you know, he was just a laid back kind of guy maybe- ”

“ _What_ Kumo-”

“But _then_! Then, he _threw_ himself in the way of an explosive mine and and _died_ scrabbling at my chest with blood splattering _everywhere_ and then just- popped back up, like nothing had happened, and swapped out an eye apologizing all the while like ‘whoops, didn’t mean to make you worry Kakashi-sensei!’ and- and- I can’t take it anymore! I mean, yeah, he got better, _eventually_ , but I was carrying his _corpse_ for like, two minutes! I just- I can’t- Here! Here, I _did_ the paperwork, I got Dragon and Shikaku to sign off on it, Hiroki’s good, just- give him a promotion and take him off my squad, because I don’t think I can handle him dieing on me a _third_ time, okay?! My heart will _literally_ implode and I will just- DIE!”

The Hokage recoiled back into his chair as a large sheaf of paper was slapped onto his desk, before Kakashi disappeared in a puff of smoke.

He stared after the departed Jounin for a long moment, mouth hanging open in abject horror.  
Kakashi had willingly done paperwork?!?


	25. Contrast 2.9

There is a tick box left unchecked, a path not yet fully explored. I attempted it, once; obtaining a Summons. Too soon, too large a drain on my reserves. But this is The Way of Things, part of the pattern which all stories follow, and who am I to say different?

The hand seals are a blur and while the tug on my chakra is far from small, it isn’t crippling anymore. The world disappears in a puff of smoke leaving me… elsewhere.

My Summon’s realm is rather dreary, almost skeletal pine trees looming to frankly implausible heights and turning the irritatingly loud sun into mere stripes and bars of brief, dusty illumination. The trees shift and sway slowly in a cool breeze, filling the air with a faint creak of stressed wood, causing the shadows to slide over and around each other like a demented barcode or one of those children’s line games. But some of the shadows are not moving with the wind.

The bird was stout, almost fat, but solidly built for all of that as it blinked at me with huge eyes and settled on the branch overhead in the little space between the trees, grey-blue feathers rustling.  
Owls. Interesting.

"Human. Quite a while since we had a visitor. The Contract, you desire this?"

Her beak clacked sharply as her head twisted ninety degrees to observe me.

I nodded slowly, keeping a wary eye on her wickedly sharp talons as they dug into the wood below her.  
"If I might. My name is Hiroki. It would be a great honor if I merited the opportunity to sign your Summoning Contract."

The Great Owl preened, beak straightening a few pinions as she bobbed her head silently before turning back to me, her eyes slightly narrowed.

"Four things we desire of Summoners. Keenness of vision. Silence of Movement. That you keep our secrets. That you prove your loyalty."

I blinked on my Sharingan for a second before ghosting across the carpet of dried pine needles, the slender twigs bending under foot but neither snapping nor crunching before I disappeared for a moment entirely, blinking from depth of shadow to depth of shadow without even a rustle of wind in my wake. I paused at the foot of the tree before smiling faintly.

"I cannot tell you any of the secrets I know, but rest assured that worlds have burned for the things in my head. I suppose we will simply have to build a certain amount of trust over time. How might I prove my loyalty?"

The Bird clacked her beak again, though it sounded somewhat approving, a slight shifting of her facial feathers suggesting a smile. Her wings flap once, and another pair of birds land on the forest's floor nearby. One is smaller, visibly shabby with an anemic, nearly apathetic air of despair about him.

"This one-" her wing sweeps to encompass the frailer owl, "is to be culled. We must preserve the strength of the clan, the defective are expunged so they may not pollute the gene pool. You will kill him."

I look slowly between the two, the grand plumage of the Matriarch, ruff of feathers almost a headdress, and the little, scruffy thing on the forest floor, miserable and hopeless. What _is_ this? What are they thinking of me?

Oh would some power the small gift give us, to see ourselves as others see us…

Wish granted.

 _Tenjin_.

The figure on the ground staring up at me is thin and loose in the half-light and shade which blends the dull camouflage of the garb into indistinguishability. Not quite that predatory readiness for violence which some ninja carry about them like a perfume, but more a whip, dangling in a relaxed hand, still as a cave for the moment, but waiting only for the faintest gust of wind to set him in motion.

He tilts his head, no trace of internal monologue visible on his features as the steel-blue hood’s colors shift under the drifting shadows of the trees.

“You truly desire I should do this thing?”

What an odd question he poses.

“We do.”

I blink back to myself and smile cheerfully. Phew! Here I was worried this might be some sort of moral puzzle or something.

“Okedoke!”

I begin to hum under my breath, chakra laced into the sound as it drifts through the trees and shadow, locking my gaze with the little owl’s, stilling his trembling with sweet dreams of starry nights and free flight. A whisper of power about my feet lets me glide over the needles without disturbing them at all; showing off was for then, this is for real and a ninja leaves no traces.

The diminutive bird is swaying slightly under the hypnotic effect of the illusion as I come nearer, his eyes glazed, pupils dilated, and body relaxed.

“Hush little baby don’t say a word-”

My backhand carries enough force to shatter stone; an owl skull is instantly aerosolized. Decapitation leaves the brain alive for a few seconds, as I well remember; this is kinder, if not cleaner. It is one of my greatest strengths, honed during ANBU, the utter lack of Killing Intent even while sliding the knife home, for truly I have never borne anything I killed any ill will. It’s not _their_ fault they were in my way, after all.

I turn back to the Owl sitting on the tree branch, tiny spots of blood liberally scattered across half of my body. She is… slightly sad, I think, though not unhappy. I pause for a moment, consideringly.

“Might I ask why he warranted death?”

She shakes herself a bit, feathers fluffing as she blinks her enormous eyes.

“He stole food from nestlings.”

My head tilts introspectively before I nod sharply.

“I see. Very well. Have I passed your tests?”

The Matriarch peers at me intently, before giving a nodding head bob.

“You have demonstrated your adequacy, yes. Ichiko!”

Another owl flutters down to settle on a branch much nearer to the ground. The name is apparently a reference to the single eye he bears, though the empty socket is not quite empty, instead bearing a patch with a swirled seal. I simply _must_ ask them about that sometime, but-

Ichiko tilts his head back and begins to cough before the end of a scroll emerges to be grabbed with a surprisingly dextrous claw. When unrolled across the tinder dry ground I can see that it bears only two other names, both faded from age till the blood is the muddy color of clay.

Blood is such a lovely shade of red, no matter its stage of coagulation. From the unreal bright fresh from the vein, to the crusty black of ancient splatter, I find it most delightful in all its many forms.

My name is done in a few strokes, and as the bond is sealed I can feel the thrum of some deeper connection settling into my coils. I will have to test that, what does it mean?

“The bargain is struck.”

I glance back up at the largest owl, who I am increasingly confident is likely to be an important member of the clan, not merely the first to greet me. Her voice carries a weight of command, the tone of one who anticipates orders being carried out. She is quite lovely for it.

“I don’t think I caught your name?”

She stares down at me, not arrogant, but assessing.

“Shizushi.”

There is another long pause, and the owls that have been congregating silently in the branches nearby lend the distended instant an air of expectation. Ended, still silently, when Shizushi nods her head once more, her gaze losing a little of its cutting intensity.

“Welcome to the Owl Clan.”

.           .           .

May 17, 11 AK

 

There is one downside to running missions with non-ANBU, they… well they aren’t very _good_. Not that the Chunin pair I’m with are weak or anything! They all deserve the rank, solid ninja all, and the other Jounin isn’t bad either, but they are all a little bit… laxer? Not drinking in the middle of the day lax, or something ridiculous like that, but…

Sometimes one of the Chunin, Katsuo?, leaves the edges of footprints on the branches! The other one, Inoue, he keeps doing flips in the air as he jumps from branch to branch of the tree highway, his pale blue hair trailing behind him like a flag. If he had a doujutsu, great. Byakugan can’t get dizzy, and Sharingan can process fast enough for such an action to be useful. But without that? No human eye could get something meaningful out of such an action and he’s leaving himself vulnerable to an ambush every time he does so.

Flashy, pointless actions like that would never fly in ANBU. Maybe that’s what it is really, I’m not necessarily ‘stronger’ than the Masaru-Jounin, the last member of our team, but I am probably… tighter? More efficient, maybe, like my eyes. Precision and speed; in, out, get the job done.

Well, in general.

The kunai comes out of nowhere, too fast for Inoue to dodge and it hits him in the shoulder. I discover something new about myself. I _really_ don’t like seeing my teammates get hurt.

Not. One. _Bit_.

My next touchdown on a branch becomes three Clones and a Shadow Clone splitting off in all directions. The Shadow Clone is still exhausting; I won't be using any other Ninjutsu this battle, but then again I shouldn’t need to. Genjutsu is chakra cheap, even if concentration expensive.

The intangible clones all shoot towards different targets while the solid clone fades to near invisibility, hands flickering through seal after seal as it drops nearly a dozen different illusions on the enemy. The one in front of my actual body gets only an instant of Sharingan eyes staring back at him before the senbon blind him with a side order of lobotomy. But just in case, the kunai in my hand slides out just enough to nick his carotid artery as I pass, feet not even touching the branch he’s standing on as I head toward the next landing spot, paths of attack already forming on my mental map to deal with all the other targets in turn.

I am facing away from the battle, and the Shadow Clone has reestablished new Genjutsu after several of the first wave were dispelled. Not all of them get negated, not the subtler ones to confuse depth perception, change minute aspects of the battlefield, or slow the limbs by the barest fraction, the insidious ones that come in the most handy, so the clone dissolves, refreshing my situational awareness for a perfect rebound at the back of the target engaging Katsuo-the-Leaver-of-Tracks.

I fly over his opponent, executing a smooth flip as my hands snake out and grab the sides of the enemy’s head. Waist, legs, and arms all fire in tandem to give me a complete 360 spin, twisting his skull around backwards while Katsuo buries a kunai into his torso.

Masaru has his pair well in hand, particularly with the Genjutsu assistance; one loses his head in a ball of flame and the other takes a fist to the gut that doubles him over. The last, the one hiding in the foliage who hit **my Chunin** with a kunai, loses his nerve and turns to run as the whisper of panic takes its toll.

I am next to him in an instant, hand on the back of his head in a firm grip, and I spin him around and slam his head into the tree trunk.

“Say!” THUD “You’re!” THUD “Sorry!” THU-Splutch.

Oops. Well, the last one fighting Masaru is down but still breathing, which is all I really need. But first-

“Hey, hey, you okay?! Hey, Inoue? Hey!”

He grimaces at me, hand on his injured shoulder and spots of pink on his cheek bones as I grip his arms tightly and turn him back and forth, checking for any other injuries.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just a flesh wound, wasn’t paying enough attention…”

I stare intently at him from beneath the shadows of my hood which… he likely doesn’t really see, but he gets the message anyway, for his blush grows under his tan and he looks away a little.

“Well, then we’ll just have to do some _remedial training_ once we get back to Konoha, won’t we? Here, let me just-”

The small blade comes out with a jerk, allowing fresh blood to well up from the wound. My hand glows a soft mint and I press firmly onto the injury, rapidly inducing clotting factors to stem the flow. Just a patch job, but with some tightly wound bandages it will keep infection from settling in until we can rest up.

Immediate concerns abated I turn back to the last living member of the ambush party. Missing-nin, going by the scuffed and unpolished Kiri headband and the general disarray of his ink-blue clothing. Something like a quarter of their active forces deserted or fled during the civil war; now their problem is our problem.

Masaru is standing over him and gives me a slightly inquisitive look as I stride over to the groaning form on the ground. My fist tangles into Kiri’s hair, pulling him up to look at me face to face.

“Hello. My name is Hiroki. You hurt one of my Chunin. That’s very upsetting. Normally, as punishment, I would turn your personality into goo and shape it to my satisfaction so that you could understand the _gravity_ of your mistake, but I’m running a little low on chakra right now, _so_. Here we have two options. The first is that you tell me why you hit us, and everything you know about Mist. Then I snap your neck. It will be very quick and entirely painless.”

He attempts to spit in my face, but I dodge the clumsy act of defiance.

“I guess it’s pain then.”

I lean forward to shield my face from the rest of my squad. Sharingan spin to life, and I take a moment to savor the the _precise_ instant when the missing-nin finally realizes how severely he has misstepped. Tsukuyomi would be too draining, so I opt for simpler, more immediate methods. It works okay anyway; with a grip on his head I can maintain the flow of chakra regardless of his attempts to interrupt me. The sensation of burning alive while simultaneously having every bone broken is quite effective as a motivator, and the senbon I jab into every pressure point I know with my free hand serves admirably as added incentive.

He is almost vibrating with the intensity of the… _experience_ , and when I pull back a little there are blood and tears and snot running down his face.

“ _God_! Thought you were Genin, Masaru the Hammer has a bounty, easy work! Don’t know anything about Kiri, I promise! Please!”

Pupil dilation, heart rate, perspiration, eye movement, chakra network; all consistent. He seems to be honest. I glance towards Masaru, head cocked. He shrugs apologetically, looking a little unnerved. I turn my attention back towards the little former Kiri.

“I believe you.”

But promises were made to be kept…

The foot bone’s connected to the~ leg bone~ the leg bone’s connected to the~ thigh bone~ the thigh bone’s connected to the~ hip bone~ or at least it used to be~

Dismembering a live human without killing them too quickly is kind of tricky, but that’s exactly the sort of work that medical jutsu helps the most with. Once he’s just a torso I pin him to a tree trunk by the skull with kunai through the eye sockets.

I turn back to the crew with a pleasant smile shifting the lines of my cloth mask, slapping my hands together to get a bit of crusty gore off once the job is done.

“ _Well_! That was unfortunate! But, while we’re here, anyone need some new organs? These guys don’t seem to be anything special, so I don’t know if we really need to keep all of their bits. I can do a little field surgery if you’re in need. Well, once I’ve rested a bit. Still haven’t quite built up the reserves as much as I would like, more’s the pity. But I’ve got storage Seals, so I can bring some spares along. Inoue? Sure you’re okay? Way I see it these guys owe you anyway. Not like they’re using them anymore…”

Inoue gives me a long look, glancing between me and the torso on the tree trunk, thick splatter liberally coating the bark in a long stripe down the mossy green length of the wood below. He turns aside and throws up, and Masaru and Katsuo give me perturbed looks.

I flicker next to the heaving Chunin and gently rub his back in concerned circles, pulling his pretty hair out of the way of his sick.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, the bad men are gone, you’re safe now.”

He cringes slightly, but stops gagging on bile. Masaru walks up a little slowly, still giving me a weird look with his oh so lovely magenta. I’m all smiles; everyone is okay and the enemy is dead. What’s left to bother?

“Uh, Hiroki? What unit did you say you were with before?”

“I didn’t.”

“Uh _huh_. You uh, handled that guy pretty…” He looks over the corpse slowly, sucking on his teeth in thought, “...thoroughly.”

I give him a firm nod.

“Of course! Truthfulness is a virtue! I told him it would be quick and painless if he answered willingly, but he wasn’t feeling that I guess. I don’t know if I really blame him either, seeing as he lasted several minutes longer than he would have otherwise.”

I heave a heavy sigh as I shake my head, clicking my tongue in softly understanding disapproval.

“Poor missing-nin.”

Masaru hums under his breath, one hand fiddling absently with the snaps on his flak jacket, matte black metal clicking faintly as he does.

“...Yeah... _Anyway_ , I think you’re about right on the assessment of their value. Maybe take one body back for the medical corp to inspect anyway, never know when you might get lucky.”

I nod again and move to the most intact figure, the one I lobotomized at the start of the fight and who has considerately finished bleeding out sometime in the last few minutes. Into the scroll, and we’re ready to go.

“Good work team!”

.           .           .

A/N: The Owl Summons Return! For those who didn't check out the alternate endings on SpaceBattles, the Owls were originally one of the ways Hiroki tried to escape the Massacre. Itachi can't find you if you're on another continent.  
  
See? Everything will be just fine, don't your fret none little ones. Hiroki is here to shoo all the monsters away. Vigorously. ...The process may involve rather a lot of bleach and plastic sheeting, but by gum those monsters won't be a bother ever again! Just, you know, put in some earplugs if the screaming bothers you too much.

 

 


	26. Contrast 2.10

Hokage-sama stared at me with a somewhat odd expression.

“So that’s your mission report.”

“Yep.”

“So, you killed all but one of them-”

“Dead.” I nodded.

“And then you tortured the last one and cut off his arms.”

“Arms _and_ legs.”

My aging Commander in Chief mouthed at his pipe thoughtfully. It took him a few seconds to speak, so I spent the intervening time playing ‘spot the ANBU’ with his security detail.

“Hiroki, you remember you’re not in ANBU anymore, right?”

I blinked back, nonplussed.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, but yes.”

Hiruzen rubbed at his forehead for a moment, mouth opening slightly as if to speak before closing again. This happened a few more times, before he muttered something under his breath too quiet for me to make out completely.  
  
"...spray bottle... more... Uchiha... a girlfriend..."  
  
Shaking his head he took a long puff on his pipe before exhaling.  
  
“Hiroki, why don't you take a few days of leave?”  
  
“As you command Hokage-sama!”

.           .           .

 

I suppose Hokage-sama might have had a point, because I get a little bit of a reputation after that for some reason. Some people are _more_ interested in working with me because of the fierce protectiveness, while others are unnerved by the ‘excessive force’, whatever _that_ is.

I mean, I _guess_ I can see where they’re coming from? But it’s still kind of weird, because everyone knows the only people who are people are the people of Konoha. Fortunately I know there is at least one person I can always rely on to have precisely zero shits to give.

Anko is still cool, as always, with her simply amazing eggplant colored hair, swag tan trenchcoat and… other attributes.

“Anko-chan!”

She turns into the hug but my head is a little bit too high for maximum squishitude effect.

“Who the- _Hiroki_? Holy _shi-_!”

I get her to stop talking in the most immediate way I can, by shoving my tongue down her throat.

“Mmm! Nn… _mmm…_.”

I pull away after a second, and she eases the kunai away from my neck reciprocatively as I lean in towards her ear.

“All the Uchiha are dead save Sasuke, you know?”

She blinks at me for a long second before eventually nodding in sudden comprehension.

“Yeah… right. _Right_! Well, jeez kid, I mean, it’s good to see you again, but I don’t know if we’re quite to that stage of a relationship yet.”

I give her a sly smile and let my features ripple with the disguise I used in ANBU. She raises an eyebrow appreciatively.

“ _Really_? Ever since…”

“Yep!” Pop the p.

“Huh. Go figure. Out now though?”

“Mhm. It was fun… ish. Okay, it sucked pretty hard some of the time, but I’m pretty darn strong now. Full Jounin and everything. Jealous?”

I give her an eyebrow waggle which she returns with a snort of laughter, smile still that lovely shade of vicious I’ve grown so fond of, glittering in the soft light.

“Not hardly. Better you than me. You better watch out, they’ll try and give you a Genin team to train if you aren’t careful.”

We share a shudder at the idea before she hauls me closer to the bar.

“So what _can_ you tell me about what you’ve been doing lately?”

I flag down the bartender and order my favorite drink before launching into a recounting of an incident, heavily edited, of a particularly eventful trip to Swamp Country.

.           .           .

The moon is huge and full and reflects itself endlessly in my eyes as I perch on the corner of my apartment building’s roof, bare toes clinging to the wooden tiles as I balance on the balls of my feet in a crouch. My back is hunched and my arms slack as I crane my neck back to bask under the glowing surface of the dead god’s tomb in a little bubble of undetectability.

I have always loved the moon and as an Uchiha it means a little more now, it’s almost family you might say, and the softness of the light; so much gentler than the burning sun, so much easier on hypersensitive eyes. I wish the world had a dozen moons so we might be nocturnal instead, avoiding entirely the cutting intensity of daylight which slices the world so cruelly into shades of black and white. In the moonlight even shadows have a certain warmth as the world glows in starshine.

Even this is not a moment of true inactivity though; everything serves a purpose. I have been sleeping less of late, preferring instead to meditate, slowly manipulating the flow of energy in my chakra coils to rejuvenate and revitalize, a massage radiating from the inside out as the force to bend reality ebbs and grows under my ever more instinctive grip and the nature flexes and writhes like an endless river as it shifts from Yin, to Yang, to, for a brief moment, _Fire_. I am not so terribly far from the point where controlling my chakra however I like might become more want than will, and that day cannot come soon enough for me.

There are fascinating avenues to explore once your control grows high enough for more complicated internal manipulations. With enough skill you might even be able to invent jutsu on the fly, though I don’t know how highly I value that particular benchmark. It’s much more interesting to watch the little effects one can produce just by forming the chakra differently inside your own coils, the twists and turns it can follow. I can do the Mystic Palm, properly, not just my little bastard version, with no hand-seals and no outward signs. Internal healing, slow though it might be. Well, we’ll just have to see how it goes.

There is still so much to do all the time. Training with Fovea is a task in itself but I am hesitant to bring him along on missions, despite his growing strength. Maybe on some of the lighter, low-risk stuff, but... it would hurt too deeply if something happened to him, and he can do good inside the village for me, keeping a protective eye on Naruto and Sasuke and a much more surreptitious watch on Danzo on the rare occasion the man makes a semi-public appearance; generally just short walks between the Hokage’s office and… wherever it is he goes.

I still try to experiment a little with Seals, but progress is slow enough to be virtually non-existent. Searching the library for the fifth time yields nothing new, however I _do_ find a very interesting law while skimming through some historical records one day.

_The party of the first part shall not abridge the prerogative of the party of the second part to maintain specializations, including but not limited to ensuring secrecy with regards to techniques and the safety and security of bloodline traits. The party of the second part is obliged to whatever means and methods they feel necessary to maintain this security save where doing so would immediately and egregiously endanger the safety of the village._

That sounds almost… _flexible_. I check the reference section for cases citing that law as precedent.

Case of Toriyama Family vs. The Kurama clan. Toriyama Satsuki seduced a member of the Kurama in an attempt to acquire their hereditary Genjutsu techniques; the Kurama clan killed the Kunoichi once they discovered she was pregnant. Cleared of all charges.

I set the scroll back down and tap my chin thoughtfully, eyes spinning beneath the shadows of my hood. You know what they say, a dead enemy is better than… something.

Hmm. I need to work on my wise old sayings.

Never leave an enemy alive? There. That works.

.           .           .

July 8, 11 AK

 

I have noticed an inconsistency.

It was such a surprise that I almost crashed while jumping over the street, the moment of shock so total and consuming that I could scarcely comprehend what I was seeing.

Hyuuga Hinata, with bandages around her forehead, walking next to Hanabi, and Hiashi, who were also similarly wrapped.

...How did I not notice this before?

I flit around the village searching for Neji, eventually finding him practicing throwing kunai with the rest of the students at the academy (he’s really very good, such a _cute_ little murder machine...).

...He has the seal as well.

…

What _is_ this change?

It takes a little digging but my relief is palpable when I find a Hyuuga Chunin at the Missions Station willing to answer my questions.

It was my fault.

Well, _technically_ my fault; it wasn’t anything I had said or some deeper shift in the fabric of world events, butterfly wings or any of that rot; but it appears a rumor got around that _someone_ had harvested the eyes of most of the Uchiha either during or immediately after the Massacre. Most are of the opinion that it was Itachi and that the only reason _all_ of the Uchiha weren’t empty-socketed was because he didn’t have enough time before ANBU came.

Apparently this caused a bit of a stir among the Hyuuga. Hiashi had always been a little more liberal, a little more forward thinking, spurred perhaps by the very odd relationship he had had with his twin brother, still sadly deceased. The Main Branch of the Hyuuga was not so very small, more than two dozen people all told, and, of course, all possessing the Byakugan, unsealed and readily available to be stolen. The Hyuuga were already jealous of their Doujutsu, and the thought that someone could steal so many eyes so very easily sent them into rather an uproar.

Terminated, quite abruptly, when Hiashi announced the reformulation of the Caged Bird Seal, and a new policy within the clan. No more control elements, everyone gets sealed.

I let the stuttering Chunin’s flak jacket slide through my fingers so his feet touch the floor again, and absently pat him on his pretty blue-black head before flickering out the window under new layers of genjutsu.

This… this _changes_ things. (I have to stifle my giggling at the pun when a passing Tokubetsu Jounin starts shaking in fear and making a gesture to ward off evil spirits.)

If I can actually _do_ things, if I can actually _effect_ the world...

An insidious thought has been plaguing me recently.

What if I was still in canon?

It sounds preposterous on the surface, how could I be in canon if I exist at all? But that is not _quite_ accurate.

If I were to die before the events of the main series, how would the world look different? Kakashi could simply lie and say that Squad 7 was his first team, forget the painful Squad 19 who perished one by one. Sasuke would simply never be told that I had survived the massacre, left in masochistic ignorance, likely affected hardly at all by the feather light interaction we have had over the years. Itachi wouldn’t care, Obito wouldn’t know any better, Hiruzen would sadly file away all record of Uchiha Hiroki aka ANBU Squirrel. No one the wiser to my life, just one more name for Kakashi to stare at on the memorial stone. No trace of my existence left on the world.

But now, now there _is_ something, a change, a big one, a _positive_ one, and I wonder… can I do more?

I stood upon the great stone head of the Shodaime and took careful aim, the early morning breeze ruffling my hood gently as my feet maintained a steady grip on the worn surface. The Sandaime had an unobstructed view of Danzo, the latter standing in front of the Hokage’s desk prattling on about something or other, no doubt how we should be launching an invasion of Kusa while they weren’t expecting it because we just signed a trade agreement or something equally moronic.

There is no emotion, there is peace. (This is very important, don’t forget)

The longbow of my Susanoo stretched taught, and I let fly.

 _Kamigoroshi no yajirushi -_ The God-killing arrow.

The arrow was nearly five meters long and it speared directly through Danzo’s heart, and more importantly the Seal thereupon, before it embedded itself into the floor with a soft shunk of splintering wood. The Sandaime began to rise from his chair, pipe dropping from his mouth and the ANBU in the corners springing to action, but I was already standing next to the traitor, tanto held in a reverse-grip, outstretched and pressed lightly against his neck as the other hand formed a ram seal.

“Ninja Art: Moment of Silence.”

The barrier’s smoky purple sphere encircled us and the ANBU halted in their tracks.

“Shimura Danzo, in accordance with the Treaty of Konoha signed by Senju Hashirama with the founding clans of Konoha, and under the authority vested in me as a Jounin of Konoha, I accuse you of Bloodline Theft.”

My free hand plunged into the bandaged eye socket and emerged gently cradling what was obviously a Sharingan eye. (Thank you Hyuuga, thank you Tenjin, thank you Wasabi-)

“Let justice be done.”

My blade slid through his neck with the ease of a razor slicing tissue paper and sent his head tumbling to the floor, steel flipping around to sever his arm full of cloned eyes in the same motion. The bubble dissipated and the arrow dissolved into nothingness allowing the corpse to slump to the ground. I flicked the blood of my blade and slid it back into its sheathe before falling to a knee in front of the grey faced Hokage.

“Hokage-sama. I apologize for the damage to your office.”

He stared back at me, expression blank.

“ _What have you_ _done_?”

I blinked placidly back at him.

“Only what the law required. Shimura Danzo stole the eye of a member of the Uchiha clan. I believe if you look under the Seals on his arm you will find another item of interest, as the arm itself provides circumstantial evidence that Shimura-san was consorting with known enemies of Konoha and likely several other counts of treason, as well as another five counts of bloodline-theft. Then there’s ROOT of course, which is still ticking along quite nicely in direct opposition to your decree.”

I meet the Hokage’s gaze with steady eyes before slowly reaching into a pocket and removing a tube full of clear nutrient fluid for the eye.

“Any _one_ of those incidents would put the Councilman entirely at my mercy.”

I eyed the corpse lying on the floor with bland disdain as the lid of the tissue preservation vessel shut with a click, sealing away one of the world's most dangerous weapons.

“I was not feeling forgiving.”

I removed my kunai pouch and sheathed blade and set them on the floor in front of me, settling into a seiza and placing my hands palm up on my knees.

“I submit myself to your judgement Hokage-sama.”

.           .           .

A/N:The Arrow of Godkilling is not as fancy as it sounds, sadly. It interferes with chakra (no duh, it's a big ass chakra construct sticking through your body). In this case, enough to defuse the deadman sealing thing on Danzo.  
  
Some may note that Hiroki is, in fact, wrong about the eyes in Danzo's arm. This is intentional. I write first _then_ check the wiki to see what is actually so.

 What Hiruzen actually said: "Need to ask Kakashi if I can borrow his spray bottle if that worked so well; I swear, one good thing about the massacre, no more dealing with pyscho Uchiha; kid needs to find himself a girlfriend and mellow the hell out, jeez." 

Remember, in real life kissing someone without their permission is a very big no-no.


	27. Contrast 2.11

There is going to be a trail (or is it a tribunal?). Of _course_ there is, actions have consequences, even if justified, and there needs to be a formal inquiry, particularly since it involved a well respected, if not particularly well liked, personage and the _literal_ physical office of the Hokage, there _has_ to be a trial.

There is a worrying moment of surprise when the genetic testing reveals all the eyes in Danzo’s arm are identical. Had I forgotten? I could have sworn… but, maybe they came from something else? Didn’t Orochimaru have that clone with the stupid name? At any rate, it is a non-trivial hit to my credibility.

And then the evidence starts piling up and suddenly, no; no there really _doesn’t_ have to be a trial, in fact there has to be absolutely no scrutiny at all because if any of this became public it would be anarchy. There is a pretty decent chance that the Hyuga would defect to Kumo if they found out that someone like Danzo even _existed_ , let alone held the ear of the sitting military dictator for _years_ while casually ambling about with even one stolen eye stuck in his mutant flesh.

Hiruzen is… not well. Every fresh report from his ANBU ages him a year. Danzo was a fool but he was not a spiteful one, and in the wake of his demise the Hokage suddenly finds that he has acquired nearly three dozen new ANBU and several filing cabinets filled with horrors. When he finds the records detailing how Orochimaru was initially lead to believe that all of his research was sanctioned but above top secret he makes a little noise of pain that is… terrifying. There are no words to describe how very much he needs to retire.

He seems to agree. Sarutobi’s plan to fix the situation is quite elegant, as expected from the God of Shinobi, no matter how aged. I will go to Jiraiya to get a little training and keep me out of the public eye, allowing rumors to die down and ostensibly punishing me with scut work for the egregious breach of protocol, even if justified. Jiraiya will try to persuade Tsunade to come back and take up the duties of Head of Medicine at Konoha General; an attempt to ease her into administrative roles and prep her for the Hat.

It is the first test of my theory that death is progress and it seems… I don’t know. I never know anymore. I wish that I was just an ordinary Shinobi, that I could just work hard, get strong, go on missions and not involve myself in all this… messiness. I don’t _like_ this, this… guessing, this wondering, this confusion. Everything good is bad and everything bad is good and I can _almost_ predict the future but everything seems to twist just a little bit so that what I imagine comes true in ways I do not expect and-

It’s a massive pain in the brain.

More so because Jiraiya is kind of a jerk. Oh he’s brilliant alright, he shows off a little when we first meet; amazing Seal work. But he doesn’t _teach_ me anything. Too busy with ‘research’ and his duties as spymaster for Konoha, more important than ever now that ROOT is no more.

It probably doesn’t help that I still can't get emotions quite right, to mercurial in my moods, to quick to transition between apathetic silence and manic intensity. Hmm. Oh well.

I’m sort of his… great-grandson? Student’s student’s student, and your Genin team is sort of like your children so… But apparently he was never on the very best of terms with Kakashi-sensei to begin with; too many painful memories of Hatake Sakumo. Not that they were on the outs, but my Sensei and Jiraiya never quite clicked. Distant relatives. And he’s never seen me before, or heard much about me from Hiruzen before all of this or… He doesn’t care about me, is what it is, and he’s a self absorbed and more than slightly bitter old man to boot, so nothing new happens.

I sigh while following behind him, heavy pack carrying both our gear while we plod along a dusty road to the next little town in the ass end of Stone Country (not to be confused with Earth Country, totally different). Maybe that’s my function in this universe, to just sort of… pave the way for Naruto. Make his life a bit easier by getting the messy and unpleasant ‘firsts’ out of the way, iron out the kinks. Kakashi will have a bit of experience working with kids and teaching, Jiraiya will have a feel for what having a little tagalong is like, Tsunade will have the seed of the idea of being Hokage already planted, just waiting for the bright sunshine of that ridiculous blond’s derpy smile to coax it into full blossom…

I heave out another sigh as a perverted giggle floats through the air back towards me. Honestly, have a little shame.

A farm boy without a shirt, lithely muscled and well tanned chest glittering with tiny beads of sweat, stands up in the field next to the road heating my face with a tiny bit of blush though the tell is thankfully hidden by the layer of disguise jutsu allowing me to appear blandly ordinary and uninteresting.

What? I’m human too! Just because I prefer a bit more muscle than is generally found on the impracticly voluptuous protagonists of Jiraiya’s smut doesn’t mean I’m not a pubescent boy. It makes me think wistfully of Anko, who’s always up for a little bit of slap and tickle. Sigh.

On the upshot, even if Jiraiya doesn’t bother actually talking to me about… _anything_ , he lets me glance at his notes for a few minutes at night, and with the Sharingan a few minutes is more than enough. He’s given me a few pointers too, though they’re really just a few cryptic notes scrawled in the margins on my theoretical arrays that it takes me days to decipher and have turned out to be only moderately helpful besides.

Seals are sort of like analog computer code. Sort of. Kinda. Okay, not really, but the general idea is applicable. Maybe more like circuit board construction blended with coding? Some sections are more or less instructions written in the weird almost-kanji of the art, but then some of it is just… doodles? Almost, anyway; large pictograms that do specific things that are modified and augmented by the surrounding lines of text, and then the individual segments of ‘code’ and implementation doodle mesh together into bigger effects, with the conductive ink of the writing serving as something like logic gates, the chakra flowing along the patterns to generate contortions analogous to hand-seals only done in parallel and massively interwoven…

Perhaps not that much like coding, actually, though it is easier for me to conceptualize it that way rather than the sort of geometric haiku chorus that Jiraiya seems to favor. Although I do seem to lose some of the elegance and efficiency with my sprawling, looping, and self-referential Seal-work, the downsides are more than made up (I think) by making it pretty easy to write.

It is also, as always, extremely chakra intensive. My reserves resolutely refuse to grow as quickly as I would like even if they _are_ growing a little. Despite the rigorous exercise I devote to the task, it seems, like my father, I will always have slightly smaller than average chakra capacity. I regenerate relatively quickly at least, which gives me an idea… Well, we’ll need to find Tsunade first, I suppose.

Easier said than done, unfortunately. Naruto and his psychic luck… I’m wasting valuable training time here (I give the rather toned girl walking along in the opposite direction an appreciative glance out of the side of my eye) even if the view isn’t always entirely objectionable...

Wait, she looks familiar… Shizune?

The name falls out by accident and she glances in my direction. I glance around for Jiraiya but can’t see the old perv anywhere nearby. Damn it, the one time I could really use him…

“Ahh, sorry. Um, It is Kato Shizune, yes? I… do you have a moment? We were actually sort of looking for you. Well, your um, master but… Uh, me and Jiraiya-sama, that is. Um… I’m not sure where he went, actually… sorry.”

She gives me a pitying look.

“Yeah, I’m not sure where Tsunade-shishou got off to either.”

Shizune heaved a heavy sigh and glanced at the food stand off the side of the lane, just on the outskirts of a little village. I spotted wooden sandals poking out from beneath the curtain and sighed heavily as well.

“Well, I know where we can get started.”

.           .           .

Jiraiya was just being lazy, but with his help Shizune and I were eventually able to track Tsunade to a bar in the town. She already had quite a pile of empty sake bottles going by the time Shizune and I slumped tiredly on opposite sides of the table, sending a jostle through the tea-shaded porcelain strong enough for a few of them to tumble as the heap settled.

“Tsunade-shishou, please don’t leave me behind like that. Though, I suppose it worked out okay, since it helped Jiraiya-sama and Hiroki-kun find us. They had something they wanted to ask you.”

I waited for Jiraiya to open his mouth before speaking hurriedly over him.

“Yeah, Hiruzen-ojisama is like, one foot in the grave and they wanted to try and trick you into becoming Hokage by having you come back and be Head of Medicine at Konoha General. I don’t think you’ll go for it, though, honestly. I mean, the medic program is total shit so I don’t think you’d have much to work with. Just, setting you up to fail, you know?”

Jiraiya frowned initially, but as I kept going it melted into a merely assessing look as he glanced at Tsunade out of the corner of his eye. For her part she seemed irritated by the initial admission and even more irritated by the slight against the medic corps.

“What? I set them up proper before I bailed on that garbage fire. What are they teaching you kids these days?”

I held up a hand, glowing with the Mystic Palm.

“That. And… yeah that’s about it. I was kind of hoping to get something good out of the program, but basically it was just a really rigorous chakra training regimen and the basic technique with some anatomy slapped on. Kind of lackluster, you know? But, whatever. Fuck Konoha, right? Oh, hey, you might like this though; remember that asshole Danzo? I cut off his head! Ding dong the douche is dead!”

I tapped my chin thoughtfully as Tsunade and Jiraiya both gave me raised eyebrows.

“Although then they punished me for it by sending me to be _his_ ,” I jerked a thumb at the toad-sage, “errand boy, and you know how bad he sucks at teaching. And not being a reprehensible human being.”

Tsunade burst out laughing while Shizune looked somewhat scandalized. Jiraiya scowled heavily at me.

“I’m the Great Toad Sage! You can’t talk that way to me!”

I gave him a vicious smile in return.

“Oh yeah, how _is_ Naruto doing? Oh, thats right, you don’t _know_ because you never return to Konoha! Even Kakashi-sensei can barely bring himself to check in on the tyke every month; the only one who keeps a good eye on him is me and the Hokage, and I think we all know just how much Hiruzen-ojisama’s oversight is worth, don’t we?”

Now both of the Sannin were giving me sour looks, though Jiraiya looked suitably stung. I turned away from them to Shizune, who look a little bit nervous and embarrassed.

“So, Shizune-chan, how you been? Got any tips for an aspiring medic?”

The young healer looked startled by the direction the conversation had suddenly taken but since neither Tsunade nor Jiraiya seemed inclined to say anything while they brooded she hesitantly began to ask me a few questions about what I knew.

Not as much as I thought, it turned out.

I thought I had an okay understanding of healing, for a beginner, but it seemed I had woefully overestimated my skills. Memorizing facts about anatomy and so on with the Sharingan helped a fair bit, but it couldn’t fix every ill, and my actual technique was pretty bog standard, only small improvements on the Mystic Palm like the ability to affect internal targets, none of the really fancy stuff that a _real_ medic could do like knit severed blood vessels together across a gaping wound or generate non-collagenized scar tissue which wouldn’t impede normal range of motion.

Eventually Tsunade found it worthwhile to butt in and offer some more pointers, in her own grumpy way.

“You need perfect control, not just _good_ , but _perfect_ , understand? Once you have that you can start getting a little more creative. Medical chakra gets you past the body’s defences, and once you’re in the basic principle of the Mystic Palm technique can be used to induce the natural repair mechanisms. But you need the control first, or you won’t be able to regenerate _only_ the things you want to regenerate, and then you start creating scars or tumors, and that's a whole nother problem.”

I nodded reflexively, gaze slightly distant.

“Thank you for the advice Tsunade-hime. I don’t suppose you have any exercises you have found particularly efficacious in building such control? I have tried rather a lot…”

A small ball of stone rolled from the small of my back down my shoulder and arm till it reached my hand. From there it began circling my fingers at a pretty good clip before sliding back up my sleeve to its former position, still rolling in little circles as it spun on every axis. Tsunade raised an eyebrow, assessing.

“Not a bad idea that. Earth Nature Transformation too?”

I nodded.

“Yes. Fire is my primary affinity, but tends to be rather… excessively draining. Earth is my secondary, and it seemed like a reasonable sort of exercise to improve my control and affinity at the same time. It also helps with card tricks.”

I waggled my fingers at her in a poor attempt at lightening the general mood. She snorted derisively, but waved at the bartender to order a round of drinks. At three in the afternoon. Her student seemed to have ‘resignedly scandalized’ set as her default expression.

“What’ll you have kid?”

Shizune apparently felt that was a bit too much.

“Shishou, you shouldn’t be buying children alcohol!”

Tsunade waved her off.

“Old enough to kill, old enough to get wasted afterwards. Need to work on your chakra sensing, can’t spot a Jounin sitting right in front of you.”

I blinked, slightly surprised, and ducked my head to hide a trace of heat in my cheeks at the implied praise.

“Oh, um. Well, I love cherries. If we were in Konoha I would have a rum and cherry coke, but I’m not sure if it would be a very good-”

“Shush, I’m buying, I can afford it,” Shizune shook her head frantically, “So I’ll get you your fruity thing. Guess you’re still too young to enjoy the finer things in life eh?”

I eyed the small pile of Sake bottles dourly. Finer things indeed. The waiter was prompt, dropping off the sweet amber nectar of the gods in front of me and another platter of bottles before Tsunade. Shizune still seemed a little discomfited though. I gave her a wry smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only have the one.”

.           .           .

Tsunade must be some sort of _magic_ , because somehow the one turned into two, and then three, and then seven, and I was well on the way to being a little bit _too_ drunk for comfort. Other people’s at least.

“Hey, you w’n ‘ow -hic- You wanna know, how you die?”

Tsunade blinked back at me slightly unfocused and Jiraiya sighed, a trifle bored, as he had been all evening. Shizune was just looking at the stack of glasses mournfully.

“What’d you know about that? Just a kid! Don’t be morbid!”

I waved at her unsteadily.

“Nah, nah, for realsies! I, I can, um… see the future! Yeah, that. It _sucks_. Ever’thin’ sucks, honestly, but you know… ‘Sides, you’re one of like…” I tried to tick off on my fingers but got lost about halfway and forgot if I was counting in Binary or not, “...a few? People who ever mattered. Like, well, technically only four people ev’r mattered, but you, you _know…_ some of them. So that makes you kind of important like.”

Shizune seemed to be fortifying herself for a drunken rant when Jiraiya butted his stupid toad face in.

“More people than just the Hokage matter, brat.”

I flipped him off absently before having some more of my awesome- ew, sake. ...whatever.

“Fuck the Hokage, they didn’ matter either! ‘Cept the Shodi- Shodan-...first one. All the rest ‘re only important by assoca- assassi-... proximity. Technically Hashirama didn’ even matter either, stupid tree fucker.”

Tsunade smacked the back of my head hard enough to bounce my face off the table and bellowed at me across the wooden expanse.

“Don’ talk that way about my gramps! Great guy, _stupid_ guy, bu’ great guy!”

I stuck my tongue out at her and blew a raspberry.

“He shoulda killed all the Uchiha! Fukin, Ma-glech! For fuck’s sake! You know, the, the, asshole. With the eyes. That guy. Stabbed me once! Guilty by association. But yeah, the Shamona was… _really_ fuckin hot. Like, god _damn_ , what did they feed everyone in those days? ‘Nyways, he mattered a little, but! Mostly cause of _what_ he was! See, like I said, only four people have ever mattered. And they were all named Otsutsuki.”

Jiraiya was giving me a curious look, but Tsunade seemed to have forgotten the earlier slight against her grandfather, for she squinted at me blearily.

“Who’re the Otsugi?”

“Otsutsuki. Kaguya, Hagoromo, Asura, Indra. Kaguya was the first. Gave people chakra, by assident, then tried to eat ‘em all, but got beaten by her kid. Hagoromo. And another one who… moved to the moon? But, don’ tell anyone, but she’s not _all the way_ dead. Shh! _Secret_. Anyway, Hagomomomo was the Sage of… Some Paths. An _he_ was important ‘cause he taught people about jutsu ‘n shit. Dumbass. Super dumbass. Like, so fucking dumb, his ass doesn’t just need remedial schoolin’ but like, it’s a fugging _protist_. _So_ dumb. ‘N _then_! Somehow, he got some chick to take his shakujo, wikink wonk, even though he was like, half alien and had horns ‘n junk, ‘cause Kaguya was from another planet or some bull fuckery, don’t ask me how that works, and _so_ he had two kids. Asura.” I pointed in the general direction of Tsunade, “And Indra.” I pointed at myself. “And, of _course_ , Baachan couldn’ leave well enough alone, so she cursed Indra with the eyes of crazy pants murder times, and _he_ became a total dick too, while Asura got to be happy and self righteous and all that stuff.”

Jiraiya is looking _extremely_ intently at me now, though Shizune seems to be operating under the assumption that this is just normal drunken rambling, hands gently massaging her temples setting her simple bronze bangles to jangling gently while artfully swaying out of the way of my exasperated gesticulating.

“And then, they were _so_ important, that the kami were like, ‘fuck, can’t let them just rot in peace, better reincarnate those douches like, a ballilion times’, and so they did. Which is why the Shodaime was important. Reincarnation of Asura. And that asshole who fuckin stabbed me in the throat! In the _throat_! Like, why you gotta, why you, wyogta… dick. _That_ guy. He was the reincarnation of Indra. ‘N so, of course, they had to fight and just, fug up a perfectly good village. But could that asshole just die? No! Why- why would we do anything that makes sense?”

I let my head drop to the table, the best place in this or any universe.

“So, you know, he came back, right? And the Uchiha were all still pants on head retards from the stupid-eyeballs in their head-skulls so they listened to his- his- his- potty mouth. And then they all died, ‘cept Sasuke, who, you guessed it! Is the most recent incarnation of Indra! So let’s all take a gamble on how _that’ll_ turn out. Heh, hehe, hey, hey, Tsunade, why don’, why don’t you bet that Sas’ke will be an ashole? Then it’ll _never_ happen.”

I closed my eyes and let the goo oozing from my face start to cement me to the wood.

“And thats why, only four people ever really mattered. And, you know, their families and stuff, I guess, like you. But I’m nobody really, so I’ll prolly just… die in a corner somewhere when no one’s looking. That’s life, I guess. Just, wait’ll you meet Naruto; the new Asura. Heh, hi grampa! He’s, he’s so fuggin, just so fuggin, _happy_ all the time. Like, why you even- you’re life sucks almost as hard as mine, why you, you, gotta be so happy? And he’ll punch you in the face and you’ll want to be Hokage, and no one cares about Hiroki the weirdo…”

.           .           .

No Kakashi to take me to bed, just a put upon Shizune to drag me back to the hotel room Jiraiya picked out for us.

The horrible old man was waiting for me with a tight frown of interest on his stupid, goat, face.

Shit I said that out loud didn’t I? Oh well, who cares, Orochimaru was better. Sexy, sexy snake molester. Mmm, kinky. Even if he is like, a _little_ genderfluid? And hella old. But he always looks like he’s only twenty or something. _Nice_.

“Fugg off Toad man! You don’t wanna teach me anything, I’m not gonna say _nothin_. Gonna, gonna, make up a time travel jutsu and go back in time and erase ‘your memory so you don’, you don’t ‘member anything I said. Serve you right. Mmm.”

Oh sweet bed, how do I love thee…

“Where did you _learn_ all that? Madara is _alive_? Does Sensei know?”

I rolled my eyes and waved at him sleepily.

“Not sayin’ _shit_. Can’t make me either, pht! You’ll find out. Or not. Who knows? _I_ don’t, not really. Saw _a_ future, not all of ‘em. Not this one. Dreams ‘n stories ‘n badly written fanfiction…

.           .           .

A/N: Return of Drunk!Hiroki (he will never be seen or heard from again). Meet Tsunade (she's a grumpy lady). Meet Jiraya (he's kind of a dick).


	28. Contrast 2.12

Jiraiya kept trying to pester me all the next day, but I pretended deafness and hung out with Shizune as we followed after Tsunade on the way to a bigger town. It was tedious walking at basically a civilian pace, but at least I could drop the Genjutsu. Not like we could be any _more_ conspicuous, after all. Eventually Jiraiya stopped asking and we got somewhere with a little bit of action. I followed Tsunade around in the gambling parlors; I didn’t play or anything, but I did watch and offer emotional support.

She needed a _lot_. Like, _wow_. I mean, it would be one thing if she actually tried, but she… I think gambling might honestly just be habit now. She has no strategy, no attempt to apply skill, just; here’s some money, now tell me I lose.

It’s actually a little bit weird, she must really be _genuinely_ unlucky because I didn’t see her win a single time in nearly a dozen different games, which is just improbable. She’s pretty good fun, at least. Got a mean sense of humor on her, and she always seems to act sort of excited when the dice are rolling or the cards are being shuffled or whatever. And she can hold her liquor _damn_ well.

I learned my mistake from that first night and stuck to simple green tea whenever she got going, despite Jiraiya’s attempts to ply me with alcohol, and kept my stupid mouth shut. Ugh, should have seen that coming, honestly. And Jiraiya is the sort of nosy sod to try and hassle me about stuff with no respect for emotional boundaries. Total narcissist. _And!_ And _,_ his smut is _badly written_!

He eventually tried to bribe me with some lessons on Fuinjutsu but once we were done I admitted that I really _didn’t_ know much more than I had already said. I detailed as much as I could recall with confidence but... Too much was in flux, too much potentially changed by my presence, or worse, never as it had been in my memories. And I knew at least some of the things I remembered were based more on fanon than canon; like that thing about Danzo’s not so stolen arm-eyes. Maybe Tobi really was Madara, or possessed by his shade, or then again, maybe not. I wouldn’t know one way or another till I had to kill the moron.

After nearly a week of following the Legendary Sucker around Jiraiya was getting ready to give up, like always, and honestly I was sort of leaning that direction myself. The subtle underhanded approach to try and tug on her heart strings hadn’t worked, so we’d probably just need to let Naruto do his thing.

Ooh, creditors!

“Hey, Tsunade-hime, do you mind if I take care of these guys? I haven’t had a good workout in… ugh, like a month. Jeez, I am so out of shape.”

“Who the hell do you think you are kid?! I hired some real ninja to make her pay back what she owes me; a shrimp like you ain’t gonna stop me gettin’ what’s mine!”

I smiled slowly from beneath the hood, pulling my mask into a crease as I reveled in the stupidity of civilians.

“Ooh, this is my favorite part! Come on, please? I don’t think I’ve ever had a chance to beat the stupid out of someone for my own entertainment before!”

Perhaps her grimace wasn’t meant as assent, but if we always waited for explicit orders then where would we be? ...Probably not in a universe with the Uchiha massacre, and those guys were assholes.

“Hi there! My name is Hiroki, and I’ll be your un-alive-ment transition technician today!”

I threw out a brace of seals attached to kunai and hit the interlopers with a powerful auditory disorientation Genjutsu timed to the strobing lights of the flashbang tags and helped along by the subtle tickle of altered timing.

Though to me it sounded more like music. 

It is pathetically easy. These ninja are probably on par with a middling Chunin squad, but the five of them couldn’t work together for shit. My dodge around one clumsy sword swipe turns into a punch in the face of one of the others, pushing him into the path of a third while I twitch-Flicker my bracers into position to deflect a thrown kunai. I am smaller than them, and faster, and more flexible, and that alone would guarantee my victory, but a twist of my wrist activated the barrier Seals on my bracers, thin purple-grey circles which are just large enough to block line of sight of half the group for a moment and give me a window to throw some senbon at the other half.

“If at any time you would like to stop the un-alive-ment process, please stand motionlessly with your arms at your sides.”

A pulse of chakra from my fingers and the barriers reshape themselves into long ovals with even thinner edges, and another twitch-Flicker shifts me from a blocking hold to a position behind one of the taller ones, my arm already moving so the barrier’s edge can slice right through his spine. His body makes a good shield against the guy with the sword, before another deflection from me puts a thrusting kunai right into sword guy’s face. Thrusting arm snaps, and a pull drives the owner’s stomach into my elbow, a spike of chakra hitting his diaphragm to paralyze his breathing and drive the air out of his lungs.

“If you have any complaints regarding the quality of service provided by your technician, please address them to Senju Hashirama, care of the Pure World.”

The last two are wavering, the toxins on my earlier senbon seem to be affecting one more than the other though. The healthier looking bloke tries a Fire Jutsu, a wave of flame rushing over his fallen comrades towards me before it bends to my will, superior control weaving a cocoon of my own Fire-natured chakra, forcing the jutsu to billow out and around me rather than allowing it to consume my delicate flesh. The sickly one goes down to another pair of senbon hitting him dead center in the heart and throat, before I get right up in pyro’s grill. And, eyes _on_ , scream, scream, scream, and grab, and twist, and snap, and **done**.

I turned to the yakuza wanna-be with my best fear Genjutsu in place.

“We hope you enjoyed the un-alive-ment process.”

He ran off, a trail of fluid leaking from his pants. I winced slightly and rolled my shoulder. One too many handsprings after not being stretched out properly, think I pulled something. I looked at the fallen ‘ninja’ with disdain.

“Anyone got a Bingo Book? These chumps worth anything?”

I glanced at Tsunade, who was looking a little pale. Hardly any blood, but I guess she just sort of dislikes violence in general now, huh? Not good, not good, damage control-

“Ahh, sorry Tsunade-hime. Um, I’ll make it up to you? If we get some bounty money we can hit up a nice casino in Tanzaku Gai. How’s that sound? Good?”

She ignored my forced cheerful gesturing, and Jiraiya frowned at me, giving me a significant look for a moment before he sniffed snootily.

“Not happening. We’re done here, time for you to bugger off back to Konoha. Tsunade’s not interested, so the mission is a failure. And don’t think I won’t be writing Sensei about your conduct on this little trip.”

Tsunade tore her gaze away from the bodies to scowl back at Jiraiya.

“If you want to run off with your tail between your legs feel free. But I, personally, _enjoy_ Hiroki-kun’s company. Less of a nag than some I could name.”

She huffed and threw Shizune a slightly embarrassed look, who returned it with a small, sad smile. The Slug-summoner turned away and started walking out of town, before pausing and turning back to me for a moment.

“You coming or what?”

I raised an eyebrow at her, and gave Jiraiya a side eye, catching the tiniest smirk in the corner of his mouth before he reset his features to a sort of grumpy betrayal.

“Will you teach me something?”

Tsunade rolled her eyes and huffed slightly, arms crossing beneath her generous chest.

“Fine, fine. I get _all_ the bounty money though. Come on, hurry it up.”

I gave Jiraiya a return smirk and quickly dropped the corpses into sealing scrolls before running off after the prettier Sannin. Maybe this trip would be worthwhile after all.

.           .           .

I didn’t end up learning as much as I might have from Tsunade. She already had an apprentice, and I wasn’t really interested in competing for Shizune’s spot anyway, so it mostly amounted to some very good pointers and the opportunity to get some more practical advice to refine my technique and a few notes on seals, particularly ones for chakra storage.

Tsunade wasn’t a master of fuinjutsu but she knew her way around a brush, same as everyone on Hiruzen’s Team 7, and the small bits of practical instruction helped supplement and clarify what I had gleaned from Jiraiya’s notes and single grudging lesson.

Unfortunately, to hear her tell it I was an embarrassment to the entire field of medical practitioners.

“No, not like _that_ , you need to establish a stabilizing counter flow first or the vessel will rupture under the increased pressure. Geez, did they teach you _anything_ in Konoha?”

My cheeks heated a bit from the criticism as I corrected the error.

“Well, they did their best. I think standards must have fallen a bit in recent years. And it’s peace time so I guess they didn’t see a need to try and keep things in tip top shape…”

I trailed off, splitting my attention between the twitching chicken under my hands and the muttered grumbles of the Slug princess.

“... Fine! Fine, I’ll go back to stupid _Konoha_. Just for a little bit! Ugh, why do I do this to myself? Gonna be a massive pain getting all those idiots up to snuff if you’re anything to go by.”

She glowered fiercely at me as I turned to look at her with a very small smile.

“But I’m not going to be Hokage damnit!”

“Of course Tsunade-hime.”

.           .           .

 

A/N: I don't think it makes much sense for Tsunade to be absolutely opposed to being Hokage, and then Naruto comes along and reminders her of all the people she loved who were dead, and that's what changes her mind. I think she had to have been essentially resigned to becoming Hokage, and was looking for any excuse she could to avoid that.

 

I've always felt that music would be an excellent distraction while fighting, particularly for someone like Hiroki who can twitch out of the way at the last minute, paired with the ability to tweak his enemies sense of time and so on. That, and dubstep is literally the best possible music for fight scenes. The music he battles to here is Brain Splat by Squnto & Kai Wachi


	29. Contrast 2.13

Sept 20, 11 AK

We were a fair distance away from the village, particularly since Tsunade still didn’t feel a pressing need to pick up the pace, but it gave me an opportunity to pick up a few more things. Enough that she eventually gave a small sniff of acknowledgment and announced my medical skills ‘adequate, barely’.

Story of my life, I thought, sighing resignedly as we passed a lone traveler coming in the opposite direction along the dusty road. Seriously, haven’t they ever heard of paving these things? Speeds up transport a lot, even if you’re still only using ox drawn carts or-

 _Fast_.

Reflexes honed by time in ANBU triggered before I needed to consciously process input. My eyes activated automatically beneath my hood, dim red glittering in the permanent shadows of the Genjutsu as I bent over nearly backwards to avoid the sweep of the sword, the tip just barely catching my cheek and sending a few drops of blood flying. I tutted quietly at the sting and the nuisance of pulling the threads out of the injury later.

“Sharingan? Weren’t you all extinct?”

My eyes narrowed as I flickered around the sneering interloper, clones left in my wake till the ninja was encircled. He had seen the eyes. He had to die.

“What do you want?”

My voices was quite pleasant and even. You can always enrage them later, but it’s important to keep them _talking_ , if they’re talking a portion of their concentration is occupied on something other than you, talking can be used to incite emotions, can be used to gain insight into their patterns, can-

“You killed my brother, _Hiroki_.”

I quirked an eye, Sharingan still spinning as I continuously updated my model of his body language.

“Oh? I’m sorry about that. When was this, exactly?”

He snarled and charged, katana whipping forward at ridiculous speed, generating a thin line of flame that surged towards my real body, almost too fast for me to dodge. Clever. Hmm, Fire?

“Oh, was he that guy working for the Yakuza? Or whatever they were, I don’t remember. So many faces, so many morons, so many corpses rendered for parts…”

I caught the down swipe on a kunai, deadening a little of the energy before Flickering behind the angry ninja. He caught the attempted stab at his kidney with the edge of his sword, turning the action into a spin that whipped out a much larger wave of flame.

Not bad, clever with his sword, good battlefield awareness, probably pretty decent reserves too, if he feels comfortable throwing it away on jutsu like that. I caught his eye for a moment and launched an obvious but pervasive Genjutsu, turning the ground to a clinging mud which began to suck him down. He scowled and triggered a small pulse of chakra, sneering at my ‘failed’ attempt to trap him. I widened my eyes in feigned surprise as I triggered three more illusions in the wake of the initial disruption.

If he was willing to throw huge jutsu around then he was one of _those_ ninja, the flashy ninja that rely on big techniques and long drawn out battles to win, something I could never hope to match with my modest reserves. Little trips like turning the nearby pothole invisible wouldn’t even occur to him, especially faced with the Sharingan and that one big Genjutsu he had already brushed off, and one of the weaker illusions was designed to do nothing but reinforce that assumption. The Vicious Whisper.

_Believe it, believe the lie, believe the weakness, believe in your inevitability-_

The volley of senbon went slightly wide in my hasty retaliatory throw, the few on target callously knocked aside by the faintly glowing sword.

“Tricks and cowardice; my brother should never have fallen to such as you.”

I made my mouth go tight with tension, eyes darting around as if searching for an exit. I let my gaze linger in one particular direction for an extra fraction second before switching my focus in the opposite direction and disappearing in a Body Flicker. Traceable, if you were paying attention to a particular location, like say, the one your target had just bluffed right at your face. He dashed towards the first site, foot slipping ever so slightly on the little hole in the road, causing his eyes to trace down for just a second. My second movement was less trackable, a rapid blink courtesy of the lamented cousin’s eye, putting me directly behind the target as he brought his gaze back up to the clone, its mouth opening in horrified surprise as he smiled viciously, and my senbon hit every single nerve in his back.

He went down with a scream, limbs twitching as the neurotoxin did its work, before gritting his teeth and standing back up, eyes wild and teeth bared.

“Clever. But I won’t fall for that again!”

The last layer of illusion, slowing his internal clock by just a tiny accumulating fraction of a second over the course of the fight, dispelled, the afterimage of dead light fading as his brain finally caught up to the reality where I was already standing directly in front of him, eyes spinning languidly and my hand buried to the wrist in his diaphragm, kunai sliding tenderly upward to puncture his heart.

“No, I suppose you won’t. Goodbye.”

I blinked away, and the explosive tag wrapped around the handle of the kunai detonated. One can never be too careful, after all.

I grimaced with distaste at all the blood on my hands, turning away from where Tsunade was still nearly rigid with horror before blanching at what my brief glimpse had shown. Well, I suppose it was lucky she hadn’t interfered, but on the other hand I wanted to punch myself for allowing the few drops of blood from my clumsy dodge of the initial attack to land on her face. Such a failing was unlikely to impress her.

I pulled a small washbasin out of a scroll and filled it with a tiny spit of water jutsu. Get the blood off the hands, quickly, quickly, _quickly_ , make sure the Primary is alright, _hurry_. I wiped the last bit of pink stained water off with a quick pulse of fire chakra and blinked to the Slug Princess’s side.

“I am terribly sorry for the egregious lapse Tsunade-hime. Please, I must- I need to- what can I do?! I have cleaning supplies, if you just sit down for a moment I can- don’t look, please. I can fix this!”

Shizune had moved from her defensive position to start rubbing little circles in Tsunade’s back, the older woman eventually coming out of her little trance to wave off her apprentice’s fussing, her calm exterior betrayed by the hair fine tremble in her hands.

“I’m fine, honestly, you two, I’m not made of glass.”

I stood, hands clenching and unclenching awkwardly as I nearly trembled with suppressed tension. It had been a near thing getting her to come along with me, a tenuous link and a few jokes and bluffing and _nothing_ , and I _needed_ this to work, it was my _Purpose_.

Tsunade blanched a little as she looked up at me, eyes tracking something on my face. Shit!

I spun around hurriedly, eyes looking out for any more possible threats and a hand digging for a cloth to wipe away the bloody tears making tracks down my face.

“I’m sorry Tsunade-hime. I forgot about… that techniques puts a strain on the eyes.”

I dabbed the blood away with firm, rapid strokes, before I felt a hand on my shoulder spinning me back around. I closed my eyes reflexively to try and prevent any more blood from emerging and further disturbing her equilibrium, only to feel cool fingers pressing against my temples, and the familiar tingle of medical chakra.

“Oh- no, please, Tsunade-hime, it’s fine, I just need a moment to-”

“Slapdash work on the transplants. And excessive pressure on the vessels, some damage to the retina… Strain my magnificent butt, you’re going to go blind if you keep pulling that kind of chicanery.”

I sighed uncomfortably at the attention and desperately wished for the time when I was still able to relieve stress with errant fidgeting.

“Thank you for the concern, but your welfare, physical and psychological, is _my_ concern. I should have been paying closer attention; you should not have been placed in such an unfavorable position. Service is Purpose, and I have failed in my purpose.”

She slapped the back of my head hard enough that I blinked in surprise and stumbled forward.

“Show more respect to your future maybe-Hokage! I recognize that… guy.” She waved at the rather large splatter on the road with her eyes averted. “Made it into the Bingo Book, not some nobody. Probably has a decent bounty on his head from somewhere or other. I suppose you’d better tidy him up as much as possible, no doubt someone in Konoha will be interested.”

I still wasn’t totally comfortable and the Sannin could sense that.

“Hey, if you failed this time, do better next time, alright? Jeez, gonna drive _me_ crazy you keep stressing out like this…”

I smiled tentatively back at the Sannin.

“Maybe Hokage huh? At least wait until they buy you a drink first.”

 .   .   .

February 3, 12 AK

I let my head sink into Anko’s warm lap, revelling in the quiet contentment of aftercare. Say what you like about dating shinobi but they are _very_ conscientious, and working in T n I had given my dear Anko-chan an exceptional understanding of the tolerances of a human body.

Her hands ruffled through my hair gently, her soft, tuneless humming pervading the warm air of her apartment. It was nice to just… drowze a little, to destress after a long day, and my mind began to wander slightly in thought. She must have sensed my contemplative mood, for her fingers dug a little more firmly into my scalp, nails lightly scratching to keep me from floating into the sea of dreams.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hmm. Just things. Sometimes I wonder… I try pretty hard, you know? Because it seems like so much hangs in the balance. If I fail this job, will the village be forced to go to war? If I don’t master this technique, will my team get wiped out on the next mission? So I push, I push as hard as I can, and… things generally work out.”

She hummed a little in acknowledgement.

“That’s good right?”

“...Yeah, I suppose. But… sometimes it seems like I don’t actually _matter_ that much. I don’t mean in the little things, which, yeah, they’re important, but… What if nothing I do _really_ matters? Imagine you were thrown back in time to the Warring Clans Period, and you tried to get Konoha off the ground faster; brokering peace deals, encouraging Hashirama-sama and… _him_ , to be more friendly, saving a few lives so that there were less hard feelings… but the only thing that really changed was that the Valley of the End became the Lake of the End, or something like that. Konoha was the Village hidden in the Bark, or… something. Details shifting, but nothing _important_. Like pebbles thrown in a river, the ripples disappearing after a while even if they appeared large in the moment.”

Anko’s head fell back against the couch as she replied, voice falling in a languid ripple as her eyes closed for a moment. Her tone was flavoured by the small, wry smile teasing the edges of her lips.

“That’s how it is for everyone, Roki-kun. You do the best you can and hope everything works out.”

I sighed and let my eyes slip closed.

“That’s just relying on luck though. I tried, you know, with Danzo, to make things better, and… I think it worked, mostly. But I don’t see anything… It doesn’t seem like a big change, yet. It seemed so straightforward, you know, but all that’s changed is that Tsunade-hime came to the village a little earlier, and it makes me wonder... What if I messed up? What if, while trying to make things better, I accidentally make things worse? Wouldn’t it be better to just… not do anything? Not try so hard, not push so much, just… let things happen as they were meant to.”

Her fingers were tracing soothing patterns over the edges of the bandages on my skin, soft curls and swirls giving me little shivers in their wake.

“...I think, what matters _most_ is how you feel about it. You can’t know the future, not really, not even with those dreams of yours. You just have to ask yourself: would I feel better, or worse, if I did nothing? Just like everybody else.”

I sighed out a soft laugh, very quietly, as I let myself slip a little closer towards sleep.

“Just like everybody else.”

“Yeah. It’s all just people in the end. What’s that thing you say? Strength is Life, Service is Purpose? But purpose isn’t the same thing as _meaning_ , it’s not the same as _caring_ about something. Function without feeling. It’s the people you care about that make it all worthwhile. Even trying and failing.”

My muscles relaxed as I let sleep take me, my last words coming out in a near silent murmur through my faint smile.

 “Strength is Life, Service is Purpose, Friendship is Magic.”

.   .   .

A/N: Hiroki might act kind of flippant with Tsunade initially, but that really is mostly an act. He is still very much obsessed with completing orders, and he really didn't feel particularly confident about his ability to persuade her to do anything, so the possibility that he might have actually failed a mission at the last second makes him freak out a little.

Some time with Anko! She's a very good Dom. Very sweet. The final version of Hiroki's motto, after a bit of more serious thought, will be Strength is Life, Service is Purpose, Family is Meaning.

Remember, Family is what you choose it to be; Thicker is the Blood of the Covenant than the Water of the Womb.

Almost done, we'll be finished with Contrast tomorrow :C


	30. Contrast 2.14

June 3, 12 AK

My hand slides over the smooth bark of the tree noiselessly, a bare whisper of chakra helping me cling to the surface just long enough to change my vector of motion. The off hand, stretching towards the next target, extends a fine spray of chakra threads which latch on and extend the arc of my swinging leap unnaturally far with their gentle pull.

The next branch gets a similarly short period of contact, the smooth contraction of my legs absorbing and neutralizing the force of gravity and adding the subtlest upward force so the near pause has no effect whatsoever on the rate at which I am moving forward.

My eyes shine in the shadows of my hood, the artificial shade now secondary to the nearly invisible and seemingly decorative swirls of black on my wine-dark face mask, which are actually my own first successful attempt at a seal based Genjutsu, inspired by some of the Owl’s own work. Although, calling it a Genjutsu might actually be somewhat misleading since what the technique actually did was more akin to a medical jutsu. It changed how memories formed.

Looking at the seal would implant a neurochemical trigger in the target’s hippocampus that modified the image which would eventually be stored in long term memory. The seal even edited itself out of the subjects vision, so anyone looking at my face would only remember a fairly average, if slightly pale, Konoha ninja wearing a dark red face mask and a dirty sage and heather hood. Unusual and unanticipated characteristics of my features such as the Sharingan and the seals themselves would be omitted from the record formed in memory.

However, calling it the perfect disguise would be a gross overstatement. I was still memorable for a litany of other traits; the technique wouldn’t and couldn’t make people forget me entirely, or even have more than a mild amount of difficulty describing my features in general terms. But the beauty of it was that it played to the normal habits of the human brain, to show you what you expected to see. The Sharingan was unexpected. Seals were unexpected. So the target didn’t see them.

It was pretty great, because it meant I could keep my eyes on in public with near impunity, and this method of travel, delightful for its similarity to flight, was only possible with the instinctive understanding of forces and vectors of motion granted by the Sharingan. Right now I was moving at almost terminal velocity… horizontal to the ground. It is _glorious_ being so fast.

Oh. Right.

My feet stick low on the curve of the next branch, allowing me to swing upside down under it and offering an unobstructed view of the trio of experienced Genin and a single Chunin following behind me… a bit too far behind.

The soft huff of irritation at their lethargy was lost in the wind of my flip back to an upright posture.

Slow, slow, slow, slow, _slow…_.

...Do as you are told.

I correct my course and bounce up higher into the canopy before diverting backwards and circling around in a wide arc behind the munchkins.

“Ugh, _now_ where is he?!”

I raised an eyebrow at ... Chubei? Meh, it was so hard to care about the little buggers in anything other than an abstract sense. I mean, they _were_ **my squad** , so I would murder literally any number of non-squad humans for them, up to and including every person not currently affiliated with Konoha, but sometimes they could be a little trying. And since our current mission was mainly an evaluation of their abilities (unbeknownst to them) some of them would definitely be getting less than stellar performance reviews.

“At least he isn’t staring at us. So creepy.”

The slight downward curve of my lips progresses into a genuine frown at the other Genin’s comment. It’s not creepy, I’m just watching over them! It’s my job.

“Heh! I know right? Now I get why Matsuhiro called him the Pariah.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t call me that. Yumi-san, you are using too much chakra when you push off the branch; it leaves an imprint of your foot.”

The pair of Genin freeze in midair, stumbling slightly on the next landing, and the Chunin in front sighs heavily as they turn slowly to face me in my position wafting along directly behind them. I flash him an approving smile and make a mental note of the situational awareness. _Someone_ noticed my change in position at least.

“Ahh… sorry Hiroki-Jounin.”

I give Chubei and Yumi a long, assessing look, humming noncommittally.

“We should be at the target location in twenty minutes or less if you’d stop dawdling.”

Chubei lets out a squawk of affront but Yumi flushes in embarrassment, the pink clashing with her orange hair rather unattractively. Or maybe I’m just not feeling very charitable, whatever.

“Sorry Hiroki-Jounin. We’ll go faster.”

I hum again, eyebrows knitting slightly as I flick a practiced eye over their slightly sweaty faces and the elevated pulse in their necks.

“Don’t wear yourself out. If you arrive early but unable to act you’re worse than useless. I need allies, not liabilities.”

“We’ll be _fine_! We’re not little kids!”

Chubei seems to be getting a little worked up over the condescension. It really isn’t doing anything to improve my initial impression of him. Although to be fair it must be galling to receive even gentle chastisement from someone two years younger and two ranks higher. I wouldn’t know.

“What is that technique you’re using?”

I blink at the Chunin who has fallen back a half step to trail above our loose cluster.

“You noticed. Good. Chakra Strings.”

Illumi-Chunin frowns a little in curiosity.

“Isn’t that usually used in puppeteering?”

My mask shifts slightly as I give him a somewhat broader smile, eyes half-lidded with appraisal.

“Yes. But I have found more applications for the technique.”

I offer a noncommittal shrug, gaze resettling on the path ahead as the leaves rush past.

“I am currently merely experimenting; I am doubtful it will remain a core piece of my repertoire. The cost in chakra is slight, but it requires more concentration to maintain than I would like. This mission will be a test case.”

The mission in question only barely rates a Jounin’s attention in the first place, as it is only narrowly a B-rank. A few experienced Genin and a Chunin should be more than capable of exterminating a handful of bandits, even if a couple of them are likely to be academy dropouts with a basic grasp of chakra control.

We burst into their camp in a flurry of leaves… or we would have if we were incompetent; as we aren’t we froze on the edge of the clearing, forward movement dying a sudden but silent death, perching in the trees for a moment before one of my summons does a quick circumnavigation, taking note of guard postings and the absence of visible prisoners.

“Well, you’re the boss, Illumi. Plan?”

The Chunin rubs his chin thoughtfully, gaze scanning contemplatively over the campsite.

“I only sensed five decently developed chakra signatures down there, I don’t think we need much of a plan. You and I can take the potential problems and the Genin can handle the rest. Yeah?”

“I believe we should keep Hiroki-Jounin in reserve for the moment. Why? Because he will be able to get a better estimate of our skills.”

I am the only one who doesn’t show visible signs of surprise at the sudden voice, even Illumi twitches slightly and Yumi and Chubei almost fall off their branches.

Right. Three Genin. Huh.

Aburame Hanako is quite good at avoiding attention. I knew she was there, peripherally, but she was suppressing her chakra signature enough that combined with the interference of her kikaichu it was easy to lose track of her. My eye roved over her approvingly. She was also apparently an expert at minimizing her physical and audible presence. Not totally silent, no, but quiet enough that her timed motions were obscured by other noises. Someone’s ready for Chunin.

I smiled lazily at her, eyes smoldering with a slightly predatory delight.

“Don’t give away the punchline too soon Hanako-chan. But good point. If nothing else, there is always the possibility that one or two of them are competent enough to hide their chakra signatures. I’ll play overwatch, sure. Well, shall we?”

The rest of the squad exchange brief nods before leaping from the trees and into the camp.

Hmm. Yumi and Chubei are obviously used to fighting together, but they aren’t taking advantage of Hanako as much as they could be. Chubei’s swordsmanship needs a bit more space to be really effective, close quarters isn’t his thing, but the Aburame Taijutsu style is pretty good at taking advantage of openings in a melee which would have helped him. Well, at least Illumi seems to be paying attention to the lady bug; they are proving quite efficient with Hanako’s insects guarding their rear and flanks while his jutsu tear bloody swathes through the bandits.

Ahh, one of the developed signatures is engaging the Genin pair. That is a _very_ big hammer, but Yumi is none too shabby with her shurikenjutsu and wire; Chubei’s odachi takes off the missing-nin’s head as he stumbles at the surprise entanglement.

A sudden flare of chakra draws my attention to where Hanako and Illumi are finally encountering some real resistance. A geyser of water smothers Illumi’s next fire technique and almost hits the pair before they dodge out of the way.

Hmm. A Chunin? Equivalent anyway, there wasn’t one listed on the report… then again, there isn’t a rule saying missing-nin can’t improve over time. _Generally_ they don’t of course, because figuring things out without the support of a village is a tall order and only those already powerful enough to have invented a technique or two on their own are likely to continue doing so. However, most of the ninja who run away from their home villages are flunked academy students or washout Genin, shinobi who got too strong a taste of the ninja life and found it not to their liking but had few options left.

Ooh, and there’s another sneaking up behind Illumi and Hanako while they’re distracted. Very low chakra signature, definitely suppressed. Well. Time to interfere.

The Genjutsu is subtle, and insidious. Each of the enemy nin gets a trickle, but the demonstrably more skilled will receive more time while the effect slowly builds where the fodder will start feeling the shift almost immediately. Maintaining 6 threads at once is enough to give me a headache if I need to hold it for too long, but this should be over soon.

_He’s going to betray you! He’ll try to stab you in the back and beg for mercy! Traitor! Kill him before he kills you!_

The little voice is only a nudge, a suggestion in their minds, an easily dismissed flight of fancy if they were paying attention… or if they trusted each other much to begin with. But that is not my favorite part.

One of the Genin-ish ninja fighting Chubei and Yumi breaks first, taking the opportunity to fire a spear of rock at the pair’s other opponent before turning to run. The betrayal sets off the rest of the missing-nin, the implanted suggestion of the illusion giving rise to a self-fulfilling prophecy.

_That_ is my favorite part.

Putting thoughts in a target’s head is all well and good but illusions become more complex, and thus harder to maintain and easier to dispel, the more you put into them. Normally this sort of technique would be paired with a visual component, something obvious for the subject to latch onto which would light the spark. A tokubetsu Jounin or higher would probably be able to figure it out then, depending on the skill of the caster and similar variables, reducing the effectiveness. My version is subtler though, generating the symptoms of a fear response in the target instead. Elevated heart rate, increased perspiration, darting eye movements, a little tickle of adrenalin, and like magic the enemy turns on itself. I might still need to do something physical, but my jutsu repertoire is large; I can usually think of something to ‘confirm suspicions’.

It wouldn’t work well on a tightly knit group, against a squad who has known eachother for years or composed of good friends. It would probably always fail on a target from Konoha; teamwork and loyalty are fiercely ingrained from the very first day in the academy. Honestly, I’m pushing it a little hard too; normally I’d let the effect build very slowly over several minutes to keep it undetectable. But because many of the effects are physiological, even dispelling the Genjutsu won’t quite put everything back the way it was; a lingering unease will persist, potentially enough to disrupt combos and give me an edge even against long term battle buddies.

Sneaky falls to a tightly focused spear of water from the Ninjutsu user, who is now realizing that something is very wrong as he stands alone against four Konoha ninja who are still in fighting shape. Hmm, he might know a suicide technique; best to get this over with.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

The missing-nin relaxes as my arms settle around his waist, my body pressing against his from behind and my chakra whispering sweet nothings in his ear alongside my voice. My hands are gentle as they turn him to face me, warmth radiating from every pore as I smooth away the stress and worry with quiet touches.

“Everything is alright. You did so well. I’m so proud of you. Ohh, sweetie, come here.”

His eyes are glazed and his pupils are dilated, the hypnotic rumble under my words and total lack of killing intent serving to set him totally at ease as one hand cups his chin and the other pulls down my mask, my mouth touching his and our energies seeping into each other.

Ninshu, the intended use of chakra, to feel the soul of another person, to know them as they know you. The Sage was a fool of the highest order, but I can see the appeal, I admit. I pull back a fraction and murmur quietly to him, my hands resting on his face as my thumbs gently stroke his cheeks.

“Ohh, Toshi, I’m so sorry. I’m here, I’m here…”

His life flashes before my eyes and he whimpers slightly and pulls me closer as my own flickers before his. A few tears trickle onto my cheeks from my taller partner and my Yin chakra starts to diffuses through him, delicately tracing every inch of his coils with a soothing caress, and merging with his chakra as the kiss deepens, desperate and hungry.

Then I change my chakra nature to fire.

The effect is immediate, and I drink in the screams as Toshi’s brain tries to maintain two threads of thought at once, his extremities glowing with an inner heat as his soul burns its way free of his flesh warring with my radiant sympathy which continues to assure him of his own safety.

But in seconds it is over, and I let the slightly steaming corpse fall with a lingering sigh of wistful regret.

“Poor Toshi. Oh you poor little missing-nin.”

I stretch out a few kinks and shift my attention to the gaping Chubei, my expression still languorously relaxed from the fleeting encounter.

“ _That_ is why they call me the Pariah. Though I still don’t like that name. Maybe something nicer, like ‘Kiss of Death’, or ‘Tragic Slip’... hmm. Well, I think we’re done here, but it seems a waste of such a nice day to start heading back now. I’m feeling a bit peaky; anyone else in the mood for a rest?”

Illumi, who has probably seen weirder things if he’s already gunning for Jounin, merely shrugs indifferently at the suggestion before settling himself onto a nearby boulder and closing his eyes. Yumi pats her friend on the back and leads him a little ways away as Hanako drops into a squat to inspect the newly deceased Toshi.

“I have never seen such a technique before. Why choose that one?”

I shrug and leap to a large branch to lie down, a foot hanging indolently off the side, swinging in the light breeze which is carrying away the smell of death from the clearing.

“I wanted to see if it would work. Genjutsu is my specialty after all, and getting one to suppress the pain reflex is tricky. Too much instinct involved, not enough higher brain function. And it’s an exercise in control, and not very tiring besides. Much neater than a fireball.”

The Aburame nods in understanding as she joins me on the tree.

“Would you like me to keep watch while you sleep?”

My eyes drift slightly more closed but I hum in negation.

“No… thank you though. I don’t really sleep so much, just… rest.”

I flick my gaze over to the girl, peeking around the edges of my hood towards the shadows of her own.

“Conversation would be welcome though…”

I trail off leadingly and Hanako shifts slightly in acknowledgment before emitting a small cough of embarrassment.

“I am not sure what to talk about.”

I smile faintly as a memory tickles the edge of my thoughts.

“How about I tell you a story?”

I resettle myself a little and take a deep breath.

“Once, long ago and far away and ever so long ago, before man had learned to use chakra, there was a young goddess named Skitter…”

.   .   .

A/N: Meet Hanako, the flower child who eats people alive with her bugs! Also, how could an Aburame not love worm?


	31. Contrast 2.15

Hanako earns my recommendation for promotion to Chunin, but I think Illumi should have taken a bit more time to prepare before launching the assault. Hanako’s reluctance to sacrifice her Kikaichu in an attempt to drain the enemy beforehand was understandable, and something she really just needs a little more experience to learn to accept. But a Chunin on track for Jounin should have been aware of his squad’s strengths and weakness; an Aburame might be reluctant to lose their partners but they would never disobey a direct order. If I hadn’t been there the mission might have gone less than smoothly, but having Hanako send her bugs out to drain the enemy while they were still unaware of our presence would have been a sound plan.

I hum thoughtfully as I lean against the wall outside Hokage-sama’s office, eyes drifting over the city visible outside the window over the secretary’s desk, mid-morning sun washing everything in pale gold.

Then again, he might have been overestimating the skill of the enemy; it wasn’t impossible they would notice the Kikaichu’s presence and then we would have lost the element of surprise. It could merely indicate a subtle preference for more direct combat, rather than stealth applications. I’ll include that in the final report; if Illumi is already heading for a frontline position it might not be a real handicap, though he should still work on it a little.

The doors open and the squad files out, Illumi’s expression mildly pleased and Chubei and Yumi talking quietly with their heads together. Hanako trails behind and pauses for a moment before turning to face me.

My eyebrow quirks up slightly in mild surprise; I wasn’t trying to make myself completely undetectable or anything, but I was behind a minor attention-diversion Genjutsu. Definitely Chunin material.

“Hiroki-jounin. Thank you for the aid on the mission. I was wondering if you would like to go out for drinks tonight. Why? Because I find you interesting.”

I blink at the slightly older teen, bemused by her request. Aburame aren’t known for being very social but then again, I haven’t personally interacted with them much before. Who knows, it could be fun.

“Sure. Though I should warn you, I am a little bit of a light weight.”

.           .           .

I was pleasantly buzzed, but not quite tipsy, and certainly not drunk. I didn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t actually, since I had put that little seal on my stomach to soak up excess alcohol. You never know when a little extra fuel might be useful for a fire jutsu, after all.

Hanako was quite stoic as well, but I was getting a better feel for her and the way she was moving was growing increasingly careful and precise. It might be about time for us to call it a night.

“Hey, Hiroki! I heard you were back; how’re you doin?”

I swiveled around on the barstool and came face to face with Anko’s exquisite chest.

“Anko-chan, I’m, you know. Good. Had an easy run with Hanako-chan here. She’s, um. Good. At being a Ninja.”

Anko raised an eyebrow as she assessed the Aburame, who had allowed her hood to drop as the evening progressed to reveal a bit more of her face. She wasn’t half-bad looking; though her bulky and voluminous jacket did a lot to hide her figure, enough peaked through to show she wasn’t unfit by any means. She had pretty hair too, a very nice auburn color which swept up a little where it hung just above her shoulders. She still had her shades on, but I had caught a glimpse of her eyes and they were a pretty green color. Why were all ninja so good looking? It was weird. But nice.

Anko whistled appreciatively before pulling back and giving me a thumbs up and a wink.

“Not bad Hiroki! Well, I’ve gotta go, I got a mission to Fang country. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

With a parting swat on my butt she was gone, leaving only the lingering smell of scales and sugar to remember her by. My eyes rolled at the joke, but I noticed that Hanako still hadn’t quite relaxed.

“I did not realize you and Mitarashi-san were together.”

I paused as I raised my drink, mouth slightly open before I took a slow sip and set the glass back down, head cocked in thought.

“I don’t know if I would say we were ‘together’. Anko is… a friend. A good friend. She’s helped me through more than one rough patch, but… well. It’s not like we’re going to get married or something. I know she managed to get Inuzuka Hana to spend the night a few months ago, lucky dog.”

I snickered at the rather obvious pun, but slowed as I noticed the subtle way Hanako’s shoulders dropped with released tension. She was just _full_ of surprises wasn’t she? I hummed around a teasing smile and took another sip of my drink.

“Why? Are you interested in her?”

She took a drink from her saucer of sake, before settling it down with a tiny clink of porcelain.

“Not in _her_ , no.”

Now I was _really_ surprised.

“Oh?”

My hand slid through my hair, pushing back my hood before letting my chin rest on my fist in a smooth, exaggeratedly sensual motion.

“ _Really_?”

The Aburame’s mouth turned up very slightly at the corners and I couldn’t restrain the stunned blast of laughter as she defused my attempted joke.

 _What_? Anko, I knew, liked me because I was a good friend and an outlet for some of her weirder interests, but I hadn’t ever had anyone actually interested in _me_ before. I wasn’t bad looking, I don’t think, none of the Uchiha were, but I wasn’t anything special either, and more than one potential interest had been put off by my admittedly erratic personality. ‘Best in small doses’, I think one prospect had said.

“...Really?”

There is surprised uncertainty in my tone as I lean in a bit to gauge her reaction and my mouth fell open as I detected a light dusting of pink on her cheeks as she gave a tiny nod.

“Really.”

My mouth shut with a click and I sat up a little straighter in my chair. That was… huh. Neat? Now _I_ was feeling a little hot under the collar, and I turned back to my drink and took a large gulp to cover the moment of fluster, swirling the liquid around in the glass while I thought.

“That’s… very kind of you. Most people…”

I trailed off. Most people stayed away when they saw someone acting alternately flirty, apathetic, and sociopathic. It… wasn’t totally unintentional though. I didn’t really want anyone to get too close. They might see… well. That there wasn’t that much behind the mask, really, cliche as it might sound.

“I know. Most people are put off by my bugs. You are not. You treated me the same. It is unusual. And intriguing.”

“I’m flattered.”

And I was.

“I think I like you.”

“I do too.”

And I did.

“Would you like to come back to my place for coffee?”

“I like coffee.”

So we went.

.           .           .

August 29, 12 AK

Hanako’s hands were soft on my back as she traced over the seals there. So many seals, added on one after the other, functions incorporated as needed and then successive seals making calls on their predecessors in massive iterative loops so tightly meshed together that it would probably take a long dead Uzoshian to unwind them all. The early morning light is warm and blue as it shines around the thick curtains of her room, casting the pale greens of her dresser into a darker shade which stands out against the off white of the rice paper walls in the mild twilight. My little ladybug is even more sensitive to the bright light than I; it’s quite a soothing atmosphere.

This was my favorite part of spending time with her. I don’t know what it was, I just liked platonic yet intimate touch. Maybe a call back to primate grooming behaviour. I don’t know. I didn’t like to think too hard at times like this, just let my mind drift. Sleep is too much like oblivion for me to find it truly restful anymore, but disengaged consciousness like this is…

“I’m pregnant.”

My muscles tensed for a fraction of a second before I made myself relax again. I cycled through several thoughts in rapid succession, predicting the obvious implied responses, before arriving at the conclusion. Acceptance. How novel. Hanako never ceases to surprise.

“...You’re sure?”

“Yes. My Kikaichu are sensitive enough to detect the fetus even after only two weeks.”

Two weeks, we had a rather nice couple of days then, before I left on an assassination job.

“...Is that a good thing?”

Her hum is tangible in my bones, the gentle curve of her hips resting on my spine serving as an excellent conductor of the sound as well as being deliciously soft, and I could feel her slow nod in the shift of her flesh on mine.

“Yes. I need a little time to practice my clan techniques and increase the size of my colony now I’m Chunin. The time off active duty will not be a detriment.”

I sigh gently into the futon, face content.

“Good.”

She hums again, a little higher pitched, inquisitive, her kikaichu giving it lovely under and overtones as she presses the pads of her thumbs gently into the small of my back.

“No concerns?”

I huff a soft breath out, almost a laugh, as close as I can get with how loose my diaphragm is.

“Oh, so many.”

Chakra makes my skin nearly frictionless so I can twist around, reverse our positions and flip her over, Hanako lying on her back atop the ruffled sheets as my head rests just below her ribcage, my own fingers setout to explore a few of her more sensitive Kikaichu holes with tender touches.

“Complicated is a fancy way of saying hard. This isn’t complicated though.”

My face nuzzles into the softness of her skin and I breathe deeply as the drowsiness starts to trickle away, slowly, comfortably.

“I never asked. Is it a bloodline?”

“My Kikaichu? No. Not really.”

I hug her tightly, luxuriating in the warmth.

“Good. I don’t think… well. It’s better that way.”

“Because of the Sharingan.”

My breath sighs across her flesh in resigned affection.

“When did you notice?”

The smile is audible in her tone, even if it would be almost invisible on her face.

“Your Genjutsu isn’t as effective against Aburame. But I wasn’t sure until I got a good look at your face.”

Hanako exhales slightly sadly, fingers playing with my hair absently.

“I assume it is a secret though?”

My own voice is slightly melancholy as well.

“Yes. I probably shouldn’t be seen around you as much anymore.”

“Oh? Going to leave me now that you’ve stolen my virtue?”

Her tone is teasing, but there is still an undercurrent of hurt.

“You know it’s not like that. If people found out she was mine… she’d be a target.”

Her hands slide through my hair in acknowledgment, nails digging slightly into my scalp.

“She? Hoping for a girl?”

I give Hanako a small kiss and a teasing nip at the tender flesh of her stomach before propping myself up on my elbows to look up at her face with a happy smile.

“Well, if she’s anything like her mother…”

She pulls me up for a proper kiss, her face still slightly sad but the expression overshadowed by simple fondness as her taste and smell fill my mouth.

“Well. It’s not like we were going to get married.”

.           .           .

Jan 2, 13 AK

I glance around the Hokage’s office and notice not much has changed since Tsunade took up the hat, still the same boring beige, though there are some nice purple and white accent pieces scattered around, reminiscent of her summons. She held out more than a year before Hiruzen had a particularly bad heart attack; he survived, but he was in no condition to run the village. Tsunade was reluctant, but since the Sandaime had been working consistently on weeding out every trace of ROOT there was less for her to object to in the position than she had originally feared.

I stood patiently, hands clasped behind my back, absently layering new Genjutsu over the ANBU hiding in the corners (they were really slipping these days), waiting for the Godaime to finish her paperwork. I wasn’t sure why she had called me in, and only two days into her reign as well, very odd.

I hope it wasn’t for another extended assignment, I just completed a nearly two month long infiltration job and I was hoping to get to use a bit of leave time I had saved up over the next few months to see Hanako and maybe Anko, if she wasn’t still chasing after Inuzuka. My little Ladybug had mentioned she had met an open minded Hyuuga gentleman I might like to make an acquaintance of, so it promised to be an interesting week. Such a clever thing she was.

Time kept on slipping past me somehow, the Rookie Nine would be graduating this year; maybe I should buy Naruto and Sasuke presents? Better clothes at least; Sunshine had somehow managed to acquire his traditional raiment, and that jumpsuit was a lot less funny IRL…

“Hiroki-Jounin.”

I fell to one knee before my Hokage.

“Yes Hokage-sama.”

“Oh stop that, I’m still Tsunade. And I have a… favor to ask you.”

I took a deep breath, pained expression carefully suppressed. I don’t _do_ favors, there are just orders that people don’t really want to give me.

“How can I be of service Tsunade-hime?”

She grumbled a little and straightened some of the loose paper on her desk.

“How would you feel about taking on a Genin team.”

My face blanched and my shoulders tightened imperceptibly at the prospect.

“I would _very much prefer_ not to do so, for _numerous_ reasons, first and foremost my junior status amongst the general quorum of Jounin. I have only held this rank for two years, I do not have the requisite experience, or the necessary level of strength.”

Tsunade flipped over one of the pieces of paper for me to see.

“I don’t think you can use that last excuse anymore, actually. Latest Bingo Book out of Kumo lists you as S-Rank.”

She continued to speak as I glanced over the short entry with poorly hidden dismay.

“Besides, by the time the students who might be on your team have graduated, you’ll have had the post for three years. A little young, sure, but not at all unheard of. You’ve been a ninja most of your life by now.”

_Skills: Genjutsu, High Speed Movement, Fuinjutsu, Taijutsu, Bukijutsu, Poisons, Iryo Ninjutsu…_

“This team is special. Well, they will be if they all graduate, at least.”

_Distinguishing characteristics: Shadowed hood, dark red face mask, forearm bracers laced with defensive and offensive seals, obsessive behaviour, preference for small and numerous illusions, atonal pseudo-musical disorientation techniques...._

I hummed noncommittally and continued to trace my finger down the page.

“We don’t have a lot of S-rank ninja, Hiroki. And, well. Sasuke is graduating this year; it doesn’t seem likely to be necessary to keep your identity a secret for much longer. Jiraiya’s network has reported hearing rumors that Konoha has ninja equipped with the Sharingan, besides Kakashi.”

_Known Aliases: Hiroki, Hiroki the Pariah, Hiroki the Muse_

I let out a slightly resigned breath at the last line. Well, at least the new nickname was a little better.

Standing back, I looked at Tsunade with a tight lipped grimace pulling at my mask.

“It still seems precipitous.”

She gave me a long look in return, gaze penetrating as she tried to determine how seriously she would need to push.

“They are going to be a _very_ special team, Hiroki.”

I scowled off to one side, unable to hold eye contact under the weight of her inspection.

“...Kakashi-sensei should take them.”

The Hokage shook her head slowly, face solemn and a little unhappy.

“Kakashi has other responsibilities. I might not look it, but I _am_ too old for this job, I really am. Kakashi has expressed some interest in taking the position, in a few years, much to my surprise. He said _you_ gave him the idea. It will take him about that long to finish polishing his skills and get a little administrative experience, but as of now, I’m a placeholder; I never wanted this job but someone’s got to do it. I’ll probably be retiring back to the Hospital in only three more years. Kakashi isn’t an option. You know who’s going to be on this team, don’t you?”

The question wasn’t really a question and I schooled my expression to one of total neutrality. It might as well have been an open admission.

I held myself still for a long moment, staring out the window. The world was different. Perhaps not in the showy ways it might have been, no, but it was. The Hyuuga were repaired, the rift between the Houses nearly healed, entirely by accident. Tsunade was Hokage, years ahead of time, and Kakashi was actively preparing himself for assuming the role in time, and neither of them would have to worry about Danzo lurking in the shadows. Sasuke and Naruto were... not quite as alone as they might have been, at least. I had a _life_ , a cat, and a girlfriend, and a daughter on the way who I might even be able to acknowledge as mine. ...And the trees outside were still the same trees I had stared up at in my frantically misspent youth. And now, here we were.

I sighed heavily as I glanced back at the folder labeled Team 7 where it sat on the polished wood of Tsunade’s desk. There was never any other way this could go, not really.

“I want to adopt Naruto.”

She raised an eyebrow in polite surprise, but nodded eventually.

“A tad unorthodox, but acceptable. Anything else?”

I rubbed tiredly at my eyes with fingers made cold by the chill air and lack of motion, giving the dimming orbs some transient relief; they would need replacing soon anyway, I suppose.

“I’ll need Sensei’s bells. It’s traditional, after all.”

I moved towards the door as I heard Tsunade humm gently behind me in contemplation, her gaze directed out the window as if to spot what had made me acquise, or perhaps merely surveying the burden she had accepted.

“You really think they’ll pass?”

I gave her an off handed wave and slipped through the door, turning to face her one more time as it drifted shut behind me.

“They’ll pass.”

 .   .   .

END CONTRAST

.           .           .

A/N: Okay, so, remember how I had that little warning at the end of Arc 1? Yeah; if you thought this fic was good, maybe stop here. Arc 3 is fun, but definitely has less of the aesthetic that might have made you love the first 2 arcs of the story. Read on if you must, but... temper your expectations. :/

 

Tsunade has read Hiroki's notes on the future, however she doesn't put much stock in them since from her perspective so much is different.

Hanako is that special kind of sweet and mellow that can perfectly complement Hiroki's manic intensity; she's also smart and likes to work towards more than one aim at a time. Hiroki is strong, and a holder of a valuable bloodline, and she needs a bit of time off to refine some of the clan techniques she only recently got access to. Why not make a baby? Little Saiko (sharp child) is going to be a precious little thing!

Yes, Hiroki is going to become Team 7's sensei (it will be funderful!) though I definitely have an omake in mind where he actually shows up to pick up the team and it turns out he got assigned Team 8 instead. Epic prank.


	32. Definition 3.1

May 13, 13 AK

Sakura glanced over at Sasuke again, her face becoming heated as she took in every detail she could in the brief window she allowed herself, lingering on the boy’s cool expression of aloof superiority and awesome hair. She glanced away hurriedly after only a moment, wary of coming on too strong to her beloved. There would be plenty of time for that later now that they were on the same team! 

She couldn’t help the tiny squeal of delight that bubbled out of her at the thought. She was on a Genin team with her beloved Sasuke! The only way it could possibly get better was if that loser Naruto wasn’t on their team as well. 

It wasn’t that she really _disliked_ him, or anything, but he was just so _annoying_ , and he kept on grumbling at Sasuke-kun which was just not okay at all. Couldn’t he see how perfect and awesome Sasuke was? Everything about the Uchiha was just so wonderful and cool, and he was so strong and… 

She looked at the clock for a moment in irritation. Fantasizing about her future marriage to Sasuke was all well and good, but they actually needed to start being proper ninja first, and that meant their Jounin instructor needed to actually _show up_ eventually. Who _was_ this Hiroki guy anyway?

 The clock ticked 2:00.

 Sakura blinked, a sudden impression of… something red?, rapidly fading as she noticed the time.

 She blinked again; there was someone standing in the classroom! How had she missed that?

 “Team Seven: Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura.”

 The voice was calm and monotone and she could feel the invisible eyes of the Jounin on her for a brief instant as he said her name, beetle like shapes glimmering from the shadows of his hood. Was this their new Sensei?

 “You have 30 seconds to reach the roof.”

 The ninja flickered for a moment and was gone.

 Sasuke was up and out of his chair in less than a second, dashing through the door towards the staircase as fast as he could. Naruto only had time to holler angrily before he sped off after her future husband. It took Sakura a full second to shift gears before she too started sprinting after her teammates.

 She arrived at the roof a little out of breath, but within the time limit thanks to her precision jumping up the staircase. Sasuke didn’t even seem to be sweating; he was such a great ninja! 

The Jounin who had called them there was seated across from the benches where the boys sat, perched precariously on the railing with his elbows on his knees, fingers casually laced in front of his face. Once more Sakura was sure he was looking at her, but she only caught the same fleeting glimmer of dark eyes under heavy shadow before his attention shifted. 

She chose a spot as close to Sasuke as she could get, which unfortunately put her next to Naruto, but oh well.

 They waited for a long moment in awkward silence as the Jounin inspected them before he opened his mouth, stretching and flexing the fabric of his mask as he spoke.

 “Acceptable performance, I suppose. You will do better, I hope, with some more… incentive. As you may have already surmised, I will be your Jounin sensei.”

 The eyes glittered under the unnatural shadows of the hood once more as he regarded them with dispassion, even Naruto’s exuberance wilting slightly under the impassivity. The Jounin’s hands rose slowly, lowering the hood and pulling down the mask to reveal a face… that was pretty ordinary, really. He looked a bit like Sasuke, actually, short dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin...

 “My name is Hiroki. Formerly of the Uchiha.”

 Sasuke shook as if he had been physically struck and leapt to his feet.

 “What?!”

 The dark eyes were suddenly on Sasuke, and now they were very visible indeed; a demonic, swirling red and black that seemed to hit her beloved like a physical blow.

 “Sit. Down.”

 Sasuke complied, almost boneless with shock, and Sakura glanced between her future husband and their new Sensei nervously.

 Hiroki stood from the railing and pulled his hood and mask back up, once more concealing his face before he neatly folded his hands behind his back, giving them all another intent look.

 “You may call me Sensei or Hiroki-sensei and I do insist that you do, because the fact that any Uchiha besides Sasuke survived the Massacre has been a well-guarded secret for the better part of a decade. While this fact is more likely to come to light now that I will be taking a highly public role as your instructor, the longer the charade can be maintained the better.”

 Naruto was practically hopping in his seat, hand waving wildly, though it didn’t seem to bother Hiroki-sensei at all, as he merely sent the enthusiastic Genin an emotionless glance.

 “Yes, Uzumaki-kun?”

 “What’s ‘charade’ mean?” 

Hiroki-sensei paused for a moment, and Sakura was worried that Naruto might have just spoiled their teachers opinion of them with his stupidity.

 “Charade means ‘act’, or ‘deception’; a lie you allow others to see to prevent them from reaching the truth. Does that help?”

 Naruto nodded happily, and their sensei gave him a nod in return, turning back to sweep his attention over the group again.

 “Please feel free to ask any question, no matter how obvious or simple it may seem. In your class there was pressure from your peers to avoid making yourself look foolish, but your Genin team will be very much like your family in the months and years to come; you should never be afraid to look a bit silly in front of your family.”

 Sakura noticed a certain shift in tone at those words, a twist in Sensei’s mask and a transient stilling of Naruto’s flamboyance. Even Sasuke seemed to hunch a little tighter in his seat.

 “At any rate, if you do not ask questions it will be difficult for me to know what you do and don’t understand, and thence repair those deficiencies. Now, why don’t we introduce ourselves properly? Hmm? I’ll go first.”

 Sensei smiled pleasantly at them, and though Sakura couldn’t point to anything specific, for some reason the expression seemed slightly _wrong_ on his face, like he had seen a picture of what smiles were supposed to look like but hadn’t tried out the expression with much regularity.

 “My name is Hiroki. I like cherries, my precious people, and training. I dislike brussel sprouts, seeing subordinates get injured, and lack of progress in my training. My hobbies include experimenting with Poisons and Fuinjutsu, and training. My dream for the future is…”

 Here he paused for a moment, seeming a little surprised and lost. Sakura had the sudden depressing intuition that Hiroki-sensei might not _have_ a dream for the future, but he continued after a moment of thought.

 “...World Peace. ...And to see all my cute little students reach S-rank. Now, how about we start with you, Uzumaki-kun?”

 Naruto grinned hugely before launching into a rambling spiel that hit all of the high points that everyone who had ever met Naruto already knew. Ramen and Hokage. That was about it for Naruto.

 Then it was Sakura’s turn and she could barely mumble out a few words through her nerves, sending Sasuke-kun little sidelong glances all the while. She got the distinct feeling that Sensei was slightly disappointed and she trailed off a little under the inscrutable stare.

 “I see. Uchiha-kun, if you would?” 

“I don’t like many things, and I dislike lots of things. I don’t really have any hobbies, but I do have a dream, or more of an ambition. To rebuild my clan…” -Sasuke’s expression flickered for a moment as he looked at Sensei- “...and to kill a certain man.”

 Sakura barely restrained herself from saying anything, allowing the little voice in her head to scream Sasuke’s praises in silence. He was so cool!

 There was a long moment of quiet, and once more Sakura felt an aura of… disapproval radiating from their teacher.

 “...I see.”

 Their sensei tilted his head slightly as he regarded them all in silence once more. Sakura felt a tickle of resignation in her gut; this seemed likely to become a running theme.

 “Well, if there are no other questions…”

 “Oh! Oh! What was that thing you did with your eyes? How old are you? Are you related to Sasuke? What’s that writing on your arm thingies? Are you going to teach us cool jutsu now? Why do you wear that hood?”

 Hiroki-sensei smiled minutely at Naruto, and Sakura though it was likely the most genuine expression he had displayed so far, feeble and fleeting as it was.

 “In order: it is called the Sharingan; it is the hereditary technique of the Uchiha. I celebrated my 16th birthday about a month ago, and yes I am related to Sasuke, though not closely; second cousin once removed. His great grandfather was my great-great grandfather. The markings on my bracers are called Fuin; seals can do lots of things but these ones act to generate barriers. I may end up teaching you some jutsu later, we’ll touch more on that in a moment; as to why I wear the hood… Let’s call this a teachable moment, shall we?”

 Everyone shifted slightly in position, Naruto slumping just a little bit as Sakura straightened and Sasuke let his eyes track up to focus on Sensei. Their instructor held out his hands as if weighing something.

 “In this world there are two things which matter most. First: what someone _believes_ to be true. Second: what is _actually_ true. What people believe matters because that is what affects what they _do_ , the actions they take. What is _actually_ so matters because that is what determines the _outcome_ of actions taken. For example. Uzumaki-kun, would you like a cherry?”

 The small red fruit appeared in Sensei’s hand as if by magic, dangling in front of Sakura’s blond teammate temptingly. Naruto for his part seemed a tad surprised, but happily so, for he snatched up the fruit and popped it into his mouth quite cheerfully, smiling as he chewed. 

“Observe. Uzumaki-kun believed the cherry to be safe to eat, and so did. Now that the action is taken, what matters is whether or not I might have put something _in_ the cherry, for I did mention my fondness for poisons, did I not?”

Team 7 froze, and Sakura could see Naruto becoming very pale, and slightly green, before Sensei chuckled softly, and offered what was probably intended to be a comforting smile behind the folds of the mask.

 “Don’t fret, I would never give you something poisonous without first warning you. But I hope my point is made? So, in that thread, Uzumaki-kun; why do _you_ think I wear this hood?”

 Naruto still seemed a little shaken but responded rapidly enough after a moment to swallow his mouthful of (hopefully unpoisoned) fruit.

 “Uh, well, because it looks cool, and makes you look like a scary, awesome, powerful ninja, I guess…”

Hiroki-sensei nodded, but did not voice agreement.

 “How about you, Uchiha-kun? Why do you think I wear this hood?”

 Sasuke glowered at the man, but after a moment spoke.

 “To make other people _think_ you’re stronger than you are. Hiding weakness.”

 Another nod of acknowledgement, but Sakura felt that Sasuke might not quite have got the point of what Sensei had said.

 “And you, Haruno-chan?”

 Sakura blinked and almost spoke up, before pausing for a moment to consider the problem.

 Riddles and puzzles were a favoured pastime of hers, a way to stretch an intellect stifled by the rigid curriculum of the academy. She hadn’t had much chance in recent years, too busy studying up for graduation, but it felt good to try and follow the twists of logic.

 What actions people take, what the outcome of those actions will be…

 “...I think, you wear the hood to make other people _think_ you are trying to look intimidating.”

 Sensei gave her a small smile in response, rather than merely a nod, and Sakura smiled back at the approval, running a bashful hand through her long pink hair.

 “Very good. While you were all technically correct, Haruno-chan was the closest. Uzumaki-kun represents first level thinking. He saw something, and assumed that the obvious solution was most likely the correct one. You may be familiar with the expression ‘appearances can be deceiving’, but the operative word there is ‘can’. _Most_ of the time, if a ninja looks very scary, it is because they _are_ very scary and if you like I can show you some photos from the Bingo Book that support this sometime.” 

The teen gave a soft sort of smile, sending a tiny quiver down Sakura’s spine at the falseness of the expression. She huffed quietly and resolved to ignore the feeling of disquiet; he didn’t appear to be _trying_ to give her the willies.

 “Uchiha-kun might be what we could call a second level reasoner; he saw surface conditions and tried to imagine what sort of mind state would _produce_ those surface conditions. If I am trying to look intimidating, why? One possible explanation is that I am not _really_ very strong, and my appearance is a bluff to try and scare off more powerful ninja. However, it should be noted that I _am_ a Jounin, so an attempt to bluff a higher level of power seems perhaps somewhat pointless, wouldn’t you say?”

 The expression on Hiroki-sensei’s face was almost predatory as he looked at Sasuke, his teasing tone failing to take the sting out of his rebuttal.

 “My old sensei had an expression he enjoyed; ‘look underneath the underneath’. Don’t just look for what might be hiding under a mask, but what’s hiding under _that_. Haruno-chan seems to have understood this lesson. If I look threatening, it is most likely because I _want_ to look threatening. I _might_ be weak, but you have seen no real sign of weakness yet. I might be strong, but again, evidence is somewhat scarce. You must consider what you know carefully in order to find the most likely set of possibilities which could explain what you see.”

 Sensei paused for a moment in the lecture before his posture relaxed just slightly, the oddly colored jacket he wore shifting from grey to pale green with the change in position.

 “In actuality, the answer is a combination of reasons, as it usually is. I wear the hood primarily to help conceal when I activate my eyes, as they are a highly coveted and rare trait. I also wear it to help keep off the sun; when I first chose this style I had been spending extensive periods active mainly at night or in dark spaces so the daylight was quite irritating, but wearing sunglasses would impede the use of techniques which required direct eye contact. Lastly, yes Uzumaki-kun, I do wear it to look like a cool ninja. Although when I first started I was quite a bit shorter than I am now so the effect was closer to endearing or ridiculous rather than frightening.”

 He smiled slightly in reminiscence and Sakura wondered for a moment exactly _how_ old he had been… but further speech interrupted her musings.

 “Now, you asked if I would teach you cool jutsu, and I said we would touch on that later. Now is later; so. First you have to pass a test.”

 Naruto echoed Sakura’s inner irritation quite vocally, slumping over in his seat and groaning loudly.

 “Ahh, man! A test? We just got through that! I want to be an awesome ninja and become Hokage!”

 “And you may yet get there. However, the tests you took at the academy were only to determine if you were worthy of becoming Genin, not if you were adequate to be taught by a Jounin.” 

She noticed Sasuke’s eyes narrowing slightly, and spoke up in shared confusion to spare her sweetheart the effort.

 “I don’t understand Sensei, aren’t you going to teach us?”

 Hiroki shook his head, regarding her with an unreadable expression as he tapped gently at the metal of his bracers.

“That remains to be seen. Your class was special, the students most likely to succeed and go furthest in your ninja careers, but ultimately the choice is up to _me_. Jounin are a valuable resource; the village cannot afford to waste them teaching children with low potential or…” -his eyes tracked over Sasuke briefly- “inappropriate temperament. If you fail my test, you will join the Genin Pool, where you will likely stay for a very, _very_ long time, if you ever manage to get out at all. So, I will see you at training ground 3, tomorrow morning at 6 am sharp, to give you a… survival challenge. You shouldn’t eat beforehand; you’ll probably just throw up.”

 And he was gone, before they could ask any questions, disappearing in a brief swirl of leaves that reflected the light of the strong late afternoon sun. Sasuke took off a moment later, leaping to the roof across from the academy and leaving Sakura alone with Naruto. The girl sighed heavily before making her way down the stairs, ignoring her blond tagalong all the while as she focused on mentally preparing for the upcoming test.

 Nothing was going to take her away from Sasuke-kun! She was going to pass that test no matter what!

.   .   .

A/N:And the final arc begins! 

 

Many thanks to Jackercracks, DasStan, LuxEterna and hexxart for their aid in beta reading (seriously, I'm useless without a beta and my older stuff can testify to that most readily, they helped immensely).

Thematic Music for Sakura's arc: Hellbent by Mystery Skulls 


	33. Definition 3.2

Sensei was late. Sakura was worried this might be the start of a trend.

 It gave her time to hang out with Sasuke-kun… or, well, hang _around_ Sasuke, for the dark haired boy didn’t seem to feel like talking today, and it also gave her time to think.

 Sensei seemed like a deliberate sort of person. His little lecture yesterday afternoon implied a fair bit of forethought and deliberation going into his actions, and that he was the sort to choose words carefully. Technically, thinking back, he had only said he would ‘see them’ at 6, not that they would _begin_ at 6. He could have swung by an hour ago, caught a glimpse of them, and then gone back to sleep, or… whatever it was Jounin ninja did in their free time. Train?

After another hour or so of waiting, it occurred to her that he might actually _be_ there, at the training ground, simply observing their behaviour. The Sharingan was said to be very adept at generating Genjutsu; he might be lurking right nearby and they simply couldn’t see him. 

Surreptitiously, lest she embarrassed herself by failing, Sakura formed the Ram seal and pushed a burst of chakra through her coils.

The clearing _swayed_.

“Well, I suppose _two hours_ to think of Genjutsu is acceptable for an academy student.” 

Everyone jumped a little as Hiroki-sensei appeared, hanging upside down from a nearby tree. 

The Jounin dropped, landing on his feet in a silent crouch. Sakura was starting to get seriously unnerved by the dim glimmer of black eyes coming from beneath his hood. 

“Well, since we’re all here, and all of you are paying attention now…” -Sensei’s head turned meaningfully towards Naruto, who had been napping nearby- “we might as well get started.” 

There was a faint tinkling sound as their teacher rummaged through a pocket, searching for something. His hand emerged holding aloft a pair of small silver bells, which he bounced demonstratively to elicit another small chime. 

“The test is simple. There are two bells. Get a bell, you pass. No bell, off to the pit of mediocrity.” 

Naruto leaped up from his position sitting on the ground with a yell and prepared to dash at their Sensei, only to be stopped, quite suddenly. 

Their instructor was smiling in that horribly pleasant way of his, and holding a kunai dangerously close to the blond’s face as he stood in a slight crouch directly in front of the orange appareled boy, thumb gently stroking Naruto’s cheek. 

“I didn’t say start yet, Uzumaki-kun.” 

Sakura blinked, her mouth falling open a little as the man walked back to his original position. She hadn’t seen Hiroki-sensei move at _all_ , and she had been looking right at him. He had just- _been_ there. How were they supposed to get the bells from someone like that? 

“Now then, on three. One, two, three.” 

Sakura and Sasuke disappeared into the brush the very instant the last syllable fell from the Jounin’s lips, leaving the blond standing challengingly in the open. The hooded head of their instructor tilted slightly to regard the short figure. 

“I’m gonna be Hokage someday! There’s no way I’m not gonna get one of those bells!” 

A hand seal formed a few clones and Sakura almost groaned from her position under a bush a little ways past the edge of the clearing. That wasn’t going to be any use against a Jounin. They didn’t even know how to get the clones to make sound; Hiroki-sensei would see through it easily. 

Her dismay only lasted a few moments however, and once more she almost gave away her position with a sudden sound, this time one of surprise. Naruto could make _solid clones_? How was that even possible? He was terrible at jutsu! The Clone was his worst technique! 

It… wasn’t really helping though. Instead it was almost as if Sensei was… dancing? The movements were vaguely reminiscent of some of the soft style martial arts Sakura had seen before, deflections and redirections of the opponent’s momentum, but the way they flowed together, moving smoothly from one form to another in a sort of rhythmic cyclic ripple as the Jounin’s feet moved in slow circles… It wasn’t like anything she had ever seen before, and it didn’t look like he was even breaking a sweat fighting five Narutos at once. 

It was obviously infuriating to the blond, for his movements were becoming increasingly wild and uncoordinated. Within a few more seconds, the clones had all managed to injure themselves severely enough to dispel into puffs of chakra smoke, deflected strikes leading to the shouting pseudo-Genin becoming their own worst enemy. 

“There are generally acknowledged to be three main classes of ninja art. The first, and some might say simplest, is Taijutsu.” 

A fist buried itself in Naruto’s gut, lifting him into the air and sending him flying into the water of the pond on the opposite side of the training ground. 

“Taijutsu encompasses many styles and the highest levels can be exceedingly potent, allowing movement speeds that exceed the unaided human eye’s capacity to track, and strength great enough to shatter steel with a single blow. Such techniques place a heavy toll on the user, and moreover require very high levels of conditioning, so they are rather rare.” 

A pair of shuriken spat out of the little pond where Naruto had landed, only to be expertly caught on raised fingers, gradually spinning to a stop. The shortest member of their team pulled himself from the water, gasping as he dripped fat globs of water onto the bank of the pool. Sakura frowned a little in confusion. That blow should have caused a lot more damage, how was Naruto okay? 

“I’m not here to get a boring lecture! I’m going to get those bells!” 

“Despite being somewhat less showy that the other ninja arts, a solid grounding in Taijutsu is a must to any serious ninja. Physical confrontation can be a valuable fall back after more energy intensive techniques have failed.” 

The blond yelped as a thin sliver of light hit him right between the eyes, dispelling the clone once more as their instructor continued his lecture undeterred. A slim piece of metal fell to the ground, far smaller than the kunai or shuriken Sakura had seen before. That was a… senbon. Yes. Throwing needles, often for the delivery of poisons. 

Oh. Right. 

“Bukijutsu, the use of weapons or, more generally, ninja tools, such as wire, is usually considered as a subset of Taijutsu. Both tend to rely heavily on physical strength, stamina, and reflexes, and both generally don’t involve much in the way of externalizing chakra. A weapon is a potent force multiplier however; even a sharp rock can be deadly in the hands of a trained fighter, and a specialist equipped with their preferred weapon should not be underestimated. The Kenjutsu used by the Samurai of Iron Country is rightfully feared and respected.” 

Three more Narutos burst from the water and flung themselves at the Jounin, and all were almost gently laid on the ground and pinned with carefully placed senbon in a move nearly too fast to follow. All but one dispelled from the needles. The last was left to wiggle unhappily in his sodden clothing, sharp bits of metal neatly outlining his form. 

“The second major branch of the shinobi arts is Ninjutsu. This is what most civilians think when they imagine Ninja: demons spitting fireballs and conjuring floods from thin air.” 

Even as the blond was being secured, Sasuke dashed out of the bushes at the perimeter of the training ground, form hugging the earth as he sped towards the bells. Sensei’s back was turned as he addressed Naruto, and for a brief moment Sakura felt a surge of hope that her future husband would succeed. This was her chance! 

She stood up from the bushes and pulled out a kunai, beginning to move towards the clearing to support her beloved- 

Red eyes glittered under a hood which was abruptly facing towards Sasuke, the fresh Genin forced to contort into a flip to convert his momentum into a vicious kick aimed at the shadowed face. A hand caught the foot, only to give the dark haired boy more leverage, the blocked strike turned into a vicious uppercut.  

Another block, and now the other leg was spinning around to try and hit Hiroki in the back of the head. A third hand emerged from the older ninja’s shoulder and caught the leg, a brief flash of surprise flickered across Sasuke’s face and Sakura paused in her attempted charge before the feint became obvious and Sasuke’s free hand swung towards the bells hanging at the Jounin’s waist. 

The outstretched digits were only millimeters away before suddenly Sasuke was desperately grasping at leaves. Sensei was replaced by a thick log, a small branch poking out at the same height as the bells. The hood shook back and forth behind Sasuke in disappointment. 

“Ninjutsu is generally highly chakra intensive and should generally be used as a finishing blow after the enemy has been tired out with Taijutsu and can no longer dodge as effectively, as it can leave the user vulnerable for a brief window after a technique is used.” 

The last(ish?) Uchiha spun towards the sound, hands rising into a blur of seals before he exhaled a huge ball of flame at the older teen. The massive pyre completely consumed the nonchalant figure, and remained burning for several seconds. 

Sakura felt a little ill, her knife drooping in her grip and she thought she might smell burning meat. That had definitely hit Sensei dead on; he might be seriously hurt or even dead. 

The flame began to dissipate, and as it did it contracted into a whirling vortex around the older teen. Eventually it cleared entirely to reveal an apparently unconcerned Jounin, a perfect circle around his feet devoid of soot as the ground outside the ring gently smoldered. 

“A Ninjutsu technique is generally based on one of five elements. Wind, Lightning, Earth, Water, or Fire. Each element is susceptible to being countered by the previous element in the cycle, and can be used to counter that which comes subsequent. However, even that is unnecessary if one has a high enough level of control of their element. One can even bend an opponent’s technique against them with the right counter move, like using a stronger Fire element affinity to negate an attack. And, of course, they require you to be able to _hit the target_.”

Their instructor’s foot rose slightly before tapping at the ground. “Headhunter jutsu.” 

Her beloved sunk into the ground as if he had been dropped, and another Hiroki-sensei rose from the earth behind the newly truncated boy. The copy stared blankly at Sasuke before crumbling into so much loose soil. 

An Earth Clone! Was that what the extra hand had been? A partially formed clone? That was… _very_ clever. Could she do something like that? 

“The last, and often least regarded school, is Genjutsu.” 

Red eyes were abruptly locked onto Sakura’s, seeming to bore into her head like hateful embers. 

Suddenly, the only thing that mattered was that she escape as quickly as possible. There was no room for other thought, no space for reason, she _had to run_. 

The kunoichi staggered back, eyes darting frantically for an escape route before cruelly barbed chains burst from the ground and tightly encircled her. 

Sakura knew, she just _knew_ , that if she tried to move the chains would slice her to pieces. At the same time, her mind was screaming at her to flee, to run, to escape the predator that was surely only moments away from eating her. 

“Genjutsu is often overlooked, as several bloodlines and special abilities can serve to make it less effective, such as the Hyuuga’s Byakugan. It also requires extremely high levels of chakra control, and a good imagination. The true downside is that it does very little on its own; Genjutsu will not injure the opponent by itself, and it is always possible that the subject has merely _bluffed_ their susceptibility. If the target is aware they are in a Genjutsu they might break out at any time, and you might never know till it was too late. Thus, the most dangerous Genjutsu is the one you _don’t_ see, the subtle knife that cuts the deepest at the most inopportune moment. People only see what they expect, after all.” 

The chains dissolved, and Sakura flushed in embarrassment as she suddenly realized that she was standing in the middle of the training ground, quaking at nothing. 

Then their Sensei waved a hand, and the field _rippled_. 

Naruto was lying in a little puddle of mud wriggling to escape his own clothes, however there was nothing actually pinning him down and he realized after a moment and leaped up with obvious confusion, patting down his arms and checking for holes in his sleeves. 

Sasuke was curled into a little ball on the dirt, neck craned painfully back as he tried to turn his head without moving his body at all. He stood abruptly with a furious snarl and started to search for the Jounin, noticing with obvious surprise that the scorch mark on the ground was now a smooth, unblemished sheet devoid of the circle where the Fireball had been deflected. 

Sakura was the first to spot their teacher, standing idly beneath the very same tree he had started in without any appearance of having moved. She stumbled back, face stricken with shock, and her gasp brought the attention of the boys to bear on their Sensei. 

“What?! How did that- We were in a Genjutsu _the whole time_?” 

The shadowed head cocked at the astounded girl, the face splitting into an amused smile. 

“ _Were_?” 

The face of their sensei was _literally_ splitting nearly in half as the mask merged with his flesh, his cheeks tore, and blood began to drip forth in a river, the sinister red eyes spinning into empty pits of deepest void as the world around them began to grey, color leaching from the sky, the trees, and every leaf to leave a land devoid of depth or hue. The trees themselves began to sag and droop like melting wax, branches plopping to the ground with a disgusting squelch as reality bled away to leave nothing but an empty night and the skeletons of wood clawing up from the endless white sand. 

“What do you mean _were_?” 

Sakura’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she slipped into darkness.

.           .           .

 “-eally don’t know. I mean, they didn’t even recognize an obvious teamwork test, they’d probably just kill themselves accidentally while playing with a kunai or something.” 

Sakura blinked as her mind cleared, the irritating rattle of an alarm clock ringing somewhere nearby bringing the world back into focus. Finally, normality restored itself after that- that _nightmare_ their Sensei had dropped them all in. 

She flushed horribly as a sudden thought occurred to her. 

 _Hopefully_ all of them; she couldn’t stand the thought of passing out in front of Sasuke if he was completely unaffected, though it would be impressive if he could just shrug off a Jounin’s Genjutsu. 

Her head felt heavy as she turned to look for her teammates, Hiroki’s words trickling through the back of her mind as the lingering fog cleared. 

Sasuke was nearby, leaning against one of the posts. Naruto was tied to the next post over with ninja wire, still looking a little bit like he might be sick, normal buoyancy dampened by an unhealthy pallor. 

“It’s not like I hid it from them, though… _they_ thought the same as well, back then. Are all baby Genin just idiots? I mean, they can’t be, right? _He_ wasn’t, couldn’t possibly have been. I wonder if it’s just this line? What was Sensei’s like? On the one hand the rules. On the other hand, being smart enough to spot a blatant ploy to split up the team.” 

“WHAT?!” 

Sensei turned from the small shape curled on the ground to look at Naruto, head balanced on a raised fist while he lounged on the sparse grass of the training field. 

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and the fuzzy ball on the grass uncurled and sat up, revealing itself to be a slightly larger than average cat covered in an even mix of irregular shadings of black with white spots on grey fur. 

“Wha- Sassy? Why are you talking to that guy Sassy-chan? Hey! Jerk! Why are you talking to Sassy?!” 

The cat and the Jounin exchanged a look before Hiroki-sensei turned to the wiggling blond. 

“You named Fovea-kun _Sassy_?” 

“Who’s Fobea?” 

“Fo- _ve-_ a. My _Nin-cat_. _Him_.” Sensei pointed a thumb at the feline, who stretched out languorously before walking over to the pole Naruto was strapped to and hopping onto the top, settling into a comfortable ball and licking the spiky blond head a few times. 

“That cat is yours?” 

Sakura blinked at Sasuke, surprised by his interest. They _both_ knew the cat? 

“Of course. Though it’s not like I _own_ him; he’s my partner. I couldn’t bear if something happened to him though, and he’s still quite young, so I usually leave him in the village. I guess he got bored with being covert if you both noticed him.” 

She was pretty sure the Jounin was giving the sleepy cat a disapproving look, but the animal didn’t seem to care, gently kneading Naruto’s head with its claws, much to the blond’s displeasure. Sakura noted with a wry flicker of humor that the orange ninja didn’t seem to be trying to actively _stop_ Fovea though, just persuade the cat to desist with soft words. 

“...You were watching me?” 

The unemotive face under the hood turned fully towards Sasuke before the man stood up and brushed his pants off. 

“You _are_ my responsibility. Now, you two-” -he pointed at Sasuke and Sakura- “can have some lunch. He-” -a finger jabbed at Naruto- “is being punished for using a kinjutsu out in the open where anyone could see it. Don’t give him anything. We can try this again in a bit. Maybe you won’t be so embarrassingly oblivious to simple tricks with some food in your bellies. Come on Fovea.” 

The cat hopped off the thick wooden stump with a fluid grace that reminded her of Sensei’s movements earlier, if that had ever even happened. The bentos sitting nearby were still steaming slightly, which made Sakura wonder how long they had been out. The sun seemed to be much closer to the middle of the sky now, and her stomach rumbled uncomfortably as she picked up the pink wrapped bundle. She couldn’t quite muster an appetite though and only picked at her food a little, taking small bites which tasted sour in her mouth, even if the food itself smelled great. Naruto was obviously thinking hard, trying to figure out the relentlessly confusing man. 

“..Ne, Sakura-chan. What did he mean simple tricks? That Genjutsu has to be something only crazy powerful ninja can use.” 

“That’s not what he meant.” 

She let her hand fall a little, resting the chopsticks on the edge of the container as she sighed disappointedly. 

“The test _was_ the trick. He said we had to get the bells, but there were only two bells. That meant someone had to lose. We accepted that at face value, we didn’t try to figure out if that made sense or if that seemed like what was really going on. The _actual_ test was to see if we could work together to try and accomplish a goal, even if we might have to sacrifice our personal interests.” 

Sasuke was in his standard brooding pose, hands clasped in front of his mouth and lunch box left untouched as he thought, an act which would normally have elicited a coo of delight from Sakura, but for which she couldn’t quite muster the energy at the moment. After a minute his head jerked indicatively at a small stone monolith across the training ground. 

“I recognize this place. That’s the KIA monument over there. It was right in our faces, and we just… He even _told_ us. What you think determines what you do, but reality determines the outcome. If you see something, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything more than that there is something to see. We should have been able to figure it out. I mean, have you ever heard of a two man Genin team? Chunin or Jounin, sure, maybe, but Genin teams are always three. Always.” 

Sakura took a deep breath before standing and walking over towards Naruto, slightly cold food clutched in her hands as she presented it to the blond. 

“Here. Sensei was right. We need some energy if we’re going to have a chance once he gets back. We’ll eat, and then we can plan.” 

Sasuke sighed, and she thought the sound might even have had a trace of regret in it behind the usual irritation, but he stood next to her as well, using his chopsticks to pick up one of the little dumplings and poke it towards Naruto’s mouth. 

“Don’t need you falling any further behind, dummy.”

 The orange ninja smiled, a little hesitantly at first, before the expression became broader and more genuine. He nodded firmly and chomped down on the little dumpling. Speaking around the food with a determined expression. 

“We’ll definitely beat him this time!” 

There was a soft rustle of leaves and Hiroki-sensei was squatting on the post above Naruto, face oddly somber as he inspected the surprised Genin. 

“You pass.”

 

.           .           .

 

A/N: What is 'real'? How do you define 'real'? If 'real' is what you can feel, what you can smell, what you can taste and see... then 'real' is nothing more than electrical impulses interpreted by your brain.

 Anyways, yes the bell test is practically identical, but not for no reason. I really couldn't imagine Team 7 suddenly realizing that teamwork and strategy were the way to go when so little of their interaction has been different thus far. :/

 Other parts will go differently.

 Anyway, that's all for tonight, another two chapters will drop tomorrow night, and the night after, and so on, until we're done, which should take a while. They probably won't be quite as long as these two though; they just didn't lend themselves to shortening.


	34. Definition 3.3

Training with Hiroki-sensei was… exhausting. And a little demeaning. And a bit embarrassing.

 “You’re too skinny. You need to put on about 10 pounds in the next month. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a proper diet plan; all of that will be muscle.”

 “But, Sensei, I don’t want to be a crazy, bulgy, gross…”

 Sensei stared at her flatly until she trailed off, a trace of mirth in the eyes which were for some reason much more visible than they had been.

 “Have you _seen_ the Hokage? The strongest woman on earth? Does _she_ look like some roided up muscle freak? No. Ninja don’t _get_ bulky or fat, unless they try, like the Akimichi. And they have to _work_ at it. If you gain more than 10% body fat over the next 3 years, you’ll be the envy of every Kunoichi in the village.”

 Sakura blinked at the assessment, and she realized he was completely correct. Ninja didn’t bulk up, not really. At most they became sort of _toned_ , but not like civilian body builders might. Shinobi were a breed apart.

 And it was a good thing too, because they were to be up every morning at the crack of dawn and they worked themselves till the sun got too low in the sky for them to see what they were doing. But even that wasn’t the end; it just meant they would go inside and turn on the lights so that Sensei could lecture them on chakra control and the more arcane points of shinobi theory.

 Their instructor didn’t waste time either; he started teaching on the very first day.

 “As your instructor, it is my job to equip you with the tools you will need to face the challenges posed by shinobi life. None of these tools are deadly on their own, just like a kunai sitting on a table is not deadly on its own. A kunai is only as deadly as the hand which holds it, and that hand might be just as deadly empty, or while holding a sharp rock. A tool is a force amplifier, a method of bringing greater strength to bear on a problem. But it is only as useful as you make it.”

Hiroki paused, checking to see that they were following his lecture. Sakura was sitting at attention, completely focused, but she could see that Sasuke seemed at least a little bit distracted, and Naruto didn’t seem to be paying close attention either. Sensei frowned subtly, and the sky abruptly grew dark as his voice rang out with a terrible thunder.

 “Knowledge is Power. Your mind is your greatest weapon, but like any tool it is useless if you don’t keep it maintained. Understood?”

 Team 7 startled in their seats to various degrees, with Naruto almost falling over in shock before the Jounin shrank back to normal and the sky brightened again. Satisfied with their attentiveness, their new Sensei continued.

 “There are three core principles to success as a shinobi. Movement, Knowledge, Precision. The exact implementation varies from person to person based on personal style. For instance, for me-” -his arm blurred for a moment, sending a hail of kunai into the nearby target post- “Speed is King.”

 His arms folded behind his back as he gave each of them an intent look, eyes still in that oddly wide expression which made him look slightly surprised or shocked all the time.

 “Speed is my strongest attribute, as it is for the majority of Sharingan users. The predictive powers of the doujutsu mean we are virtually guaranteed to win against anyone we can beat in a contest of quickness. So, speed is my greatest strength. However, Movement advantage can be obtained through many ways, such as the Sandaime Tsuchikage’s flight ability, or even something as simple as a rebreather to allow you to swim underwater for long periods. Obtaining an optimum angle of attack, avoiding your enemy's attack, getting to the target before they do, or executing a tactical withdraw; all are reliant on your ability to move in a way your enemy cannot match, or in a way your enemy will not anticipate.” 

Sakura raised a hand eagerly, receiving a nod of recognition after a moment’s pause.

 “Is that what you meant by knowledge then? Using a technique your enemy doesn’t know?”

 Her sensei nodded slightly, but then shook his head in negation.

 “It can be. However Knowledge, like Movement, has many ways of expressing itself. For instance, gaining a movement advantage could also mean limiting your opponent’s ability to move with something like a kunai trap. Similarly, knowing an advanced jutsu is an advantage, but so is simply knowing the terrain of the battlefield better than your enemy does. Can anyone else think of a type of knowledge which could come in handy?”

 “Oh! Oh! Knowing a cool jutsu to blow ‘em away?”

 Sakura wanted to hide her face at the blonde’s inanity. Sensei _just said_ that.

 “That wasn’t quite what I was thinking of Naruto. Sasuke?”

 “Knowing your enemy’s weak points.”

 Her beloved earned a small nod of approval. Naruto’s hand was waving eagerly in the air again.

 “Genjutsu!”

 Sakura blinked in mild surprise. That... was a pretty good example, actually.

 “Quite right Naruto. Just like controlling your enemy’s ability to move is a good way to obtain an advantage in _that_ arena, controlling what your enemy can see, hear, or think is an excellent method of obtaining a Knowledge advantage. Deception, or presenting a false image to your opponent so they misjudge your strength, is also a sound strategy.”

 Sensei’s hand blurred once more, pinning a falling leaf to the tree trunk directly behind Naruto’s head.

 “The last was Precision. Again, this can take many forms. Throwing accuracy. Chakra control. My personal preference is for Seals. Fuinjutsu allows you to perform techniques which would normally require hundreds, or even thousands of hand seals.” 

The toned shoulders peeking out of the sleevless hood shrugged ambivalently. 

“It’s all about finding what fits you. The necessity should be obvious; a jutsu that can kill anyone it hits is useless if you can’t hit the enemy.” 

“That’s all general. You haven’t actually talked about specific techniques.” 

Sakura glanced at the broody Uchiha prodigy sitting next to her, his hands folded in front of his mouth and his eyes set in their habitual glower, though he didn’t seem particularly unhappy at the moment. Hiroki-sensei regarded his kinsman with an equal measure of cool detachment. 

“Specific techniques would be wasted on all of you at this stage. You all require a much stronger foundation before you are ready to learn something more complicated.” 

Sensei shook his head slowly, gaze unwavering as a low breeze swept through the training ground, sending the scattered leaves swirling. 

“Simply _knowing_ a technique can lead to overconfidence. Overconfidence is a very common and often deadly flaw amongst high level Ninja. I received my S-ranking after killing Yamamoto of the Black Lightning, becoming the 34th ninja from Konoha to achieve that rank. That is the generally acceptable way to earn S-ranking; kill someone who is already acknowledged to be on that level. Yamamoto had made a copy of the Sandaime Raikage’s signature technique, a hybrid Nin-Taijutsu that cloaks the user in a sheath of lightning to give them unparalleled speed and absurd striking power. The Raikage who perfected the technique was able to fight continuously for 17 hours without taking so much as a single injury, before he was crippled by fatigue. The story has grown over time; if someone tells you it was 3 days, they lie; no normal human, not even a Kage, would have the reserves necessary. Yamamoto believed the stories. He believed that so long as he could survive the enemy’s first strike, he would be able to activate his technique and be assured of defeating his opponent before they could escape, even in the event of ambush. He should have listened closer to the tale.” 

A pale hand came up to tap gently at a point just below Hiroki’s collarbone. 

“The only practical way to penetrate the technique is _using_ the technique. So I confused his ability to measure distance with a combination of 3 different D-rank Genjutsu and a few minor airborne poisons, and simply watched as he stabbed himself in the chest. He would have done well to master the basics more definitively. A house built on a shaky foundation will crumble in the first storm. Stamina, chakra control, and basic Taijutsu will be the foundation of your entire career; it will only give you larger returns the earlier you start.” 

A kunai appeared in his hand, flipping idly before disappearing just as suddenly to pin another falling leaf to the bullseye of the far target. 

“Seize every advantage. While something as simple as a kunai is unlikely to be the thing which wins a battle, its absence might be the thing which ensures your loss. That’s not to say I won’t give you something more advanced once you can demonstrate that you have constructed that solid foundation.” 

Hiroki unzipped his flack jacket and the sweater beneath it, pulling the clothing open to reveal his torso. Sakura blushed a little at how toned the Jounin’s muscles were, then blinked in surprise at the extensive network of tattoos across their Sensei’s chest. She tentatively raised a hand as she noticed something odd. 

“Sensei? What are the spots on top of your gates?” 

When they were honest, Sensei’s smiles were very nice, though faint and fleeting. 

“Very good Sakura-chan. Naruto-kun, Sasuke-kun, pay attention. The body has a secondary circulatory system to control the flow of chakra. There are Eight Gates along that network which limit the flow of chakra for your own safety. Opening the gates is one of the ultimate Taijutsu techniques, but is labeled forbidden for the extreme strain that it places on the body. Opening all Eight Gates is almost invariably fatal. In this case, the Seals I have placed on all Eight Gates, including the two on the head though those are concealed by my hair, serve to aid in chakra storage. My reserves are slightly smaller than average for a shinobi of my level, a trait I inherited from my father, regrettably. There are exercises to increase your capacity, and we will be starting you on that soon, but beyond that the best way to build your reserves is simply through age and practice. The last option is chakra storage Seals.”  

He tapped the spots Sakura had noticed, pointing out the regions of greatest intricacy spaced along the Seal matrix on his torso. 

“This matrix serves to constantly syphon off a small amount of chakra from my circulatory system and push it through an artificial secondary coil network. The chakra is kept stored in the redundant network until a point where my own bodily reserves begin to slip dangerously low, whereupon the flow reverses to feed the sealed chakra back in. It effectively grants me significantly increased reserves, though as the Seal consumes more chakra the larger it grows there is an upperbound; about ten times my normal chakra capacity. Since the rate of chakra generation is proportional to the size of one’s reserves, and mine are comparatively small, filling the Seal to the point where I might be on par with, say, the Hokage, would take the better part of a month. I try to avoid doing anything very chakra intensive as a consequence.” 

Once clothing was back in place, their sensei gave them a rather close inspection, making Sakura feel a bit uncomfortable again as he poked and prodded. He stood back a bit and seemed to be eyeing Team 7’s clothing for some reason. 

“Seals are generally not the end all and be all for powerful ninja, but very frequently they constitute an extremely potent trump card in your arsenal. Unfortunately, Jiraiya of the Sannin is the only individual generally acknowledged to have mastered the art alive in the world today. There are others who claim mastery, but the best practitioners of the art died along with the rest of Naruto’s clan in the fall of Uzushio during the Second World War; even Jiraiya-sama pales next to them. I am competent, possibly even an expert, but that is not the same things as true mastery I fear. Hmm. We’d want to shave some of your hair off.” 

“What?!” 

Sakura blinked and clutched at her cherry blossom strands. Her male teammates seemed perturbed as well, though not quite as vocally. 

Dark eyes blinked under the shade of Sensei’s hood. 

“For the Seals. Chakra Storage for you. Maybe the Mystic Palm for Sasuke, and the Sensory Amplifier for Naruto.” 

Sakura’s hands loosened their death grip a bit. 

“You’re going to give us Seals like yours?” 

Sensei nodded, head slightly cocked. 

“Eventually, if you like. Only a single one, the rest you’ll want to design yourselves after some more instruction. Seals are my last area of true expertise rather than mere competence, so I would be quite put out if you weren’t all at least able to whip up something simple by the time you get promoted to Chunin. Sakura; you’re female. That means your reserves will always be smaller than Sasuke’s and Naruto’s. It doesn’t matter how much you train or how hard you practice, your reserves will always be about 10-15% smaller than an identical male. That deficiency comes paired with better chakra control, but that’s irrelevant at higher levels since even someone with reserves as large as Naruto’s can eventually train to get nearly perfect control. You can’t _force_ your reserves bigger. Seals will supplement you though, and allow you to pull even with your teammates.” 

Turning to Sasuke, the older Uchiha gave a slight nod. 

“The Uchiha tend to have slightly larger reserves in general which we burn through a touch faster with the Sharingan, but that should be less of a problem for Sasuke, even if he chooses to specialize in flashy, useless Ninjutsu like most of the clan did. Much more likely to cause trouble is the mental instability that comes with overuse of the Sharingan.” 

Sasuke scowled, and Sakura felt simultaneously offended and worried. She had looked into her beloved’s family a little (she was going to marry a clan heir after all) and she hadn’t found anything like _that_. Although, there was that one report about early onset dementia… 

“Remembering every single face you kill tends to lead to sociopathy, and the pseudo-precognition often generates megalomania. Those side effects can be handled, mostly, though you’ll need extra therapy as you get older. I recommend alcohol. And pretty girls. Pretty girls with handcuffs...and maybe a flexible chap or two...” 

The Genin pulled back a little, looking at the Jounin askance as he covered his moment of embarrassment with a cough. 

 

. . .

A/N:More exposition, but we'll be through it soon.  
  
Hiroki actually lost an eye to that Kumo-nin, but fortunately he had recently acquired a particularly nice spare, so he didn't mind too much.


	35. Definition 3.4

The rest of the first day turned into testing. While the academy had been pretty thorough, Sensei wanted more. 

“Now try to grab your ankles.” 

Sakura was bent almost in half, body curving backwards in an arch, and she tried to walk her hands slowly back towards her feet, feeling the tug as her tendons stretched under the strain the whole while until she managed to wrap her fingers around the straps of her sandals. She smiled briefly but yelped a moment later as she lost her balance, toppling to the side with a little gasp as something was wrenched. 

“Hmm, not bad, but we can do better. Come here, I can fix that.” 

Hiroki laid a hand on her shoulder as he kept bobbing up and down, and a faint green glow surrounded his hand for a moment before the minor pain vanished. The Kunoichi rolled her shoulder slowly and was surprised at the ease with which she completed the movement, glancing up at her instructor who had an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Iryo-ninjutsu is generally reserved for female ninja. While some, like the Lady Hokage, can learn to exploit it for combat, such applications are… difficult.” 

Sakura frowned slightly at the words. Was he encouraging her, or warning her off of it? Before she could ask, she was interrupted by Naruto.

“Hey! Why does Sakura get to learn a cool jutsu while I have to do these stupid pushups?!” 

She glanced at her blond teammate where he was continuing to work while Sensei sat on his back. 

“Because, Naruto, I am trying to figure out if there is a limit to your stamina. Sasuke! I don’t hear running!” 

The last member of Team 7 was breathing slightly heavily as he glared at them, a few beads of sweat darkening his hair. 

“It’s pointless. Are you actually going to teach us anything or is all of this a waste of my time?” 

Sensei was abruptly right behind him, arms draped around Sasuke’s neck as he leaned in close. 

“Oh? Already so confident in yourself are you?” 

Their instructor’s tone was ice-cold and sent a chill down Sakura’s back even from across the training field. Sasuke was staring wide-eyed at the spot on Naruto’s back where the teen had been not a moment before. 

“Hmm. Well, I do have a few small techniques we can get started on tomorrow, but maybe you’re right, best to have a carrot as well as a stick, hmm?” 

Walking back towards the center of the training ground he made a gesture to bring everyone in. 

“Bukijutsu is not precisely a speciality of mine, but I have picked up a few things…” 

Sensei began pulling weapon after weapon out of little black circles on the inside of his wrists: half a dozen different swords, a full dozen styles of dagger, a couple polearms, a glaive, a spear, a three-part-staff, one and two handed sickles, kusarigama, weighted chains, a meteor hammer, a longbow, a crossbow, cat’s-claws, jitte, chakram, nunchaku, a pair of tonfa, a disturbingly massive warhammer, a few different mace styles, a large gunbai, and finally a pair of shiny tessen. 

“How’s this? If you can meet all of my expectations for the next two weeks, I’ll start teaching you how to use one of these.” 

He gestured broadly at the veritable arsenal spread before them, giving them all a long moment to look over the weapons before flicking his fingers and sending all of the glittering steel back into the spot on his wrist like it had been sucked up by a vacuum. 

“And, what’s more, once we complete our first C-rank in a month or so, if you manage to impress me, I’ll teach each of you a personalized jutsu. But first-” 

The sudden shift from lightly teasing to an intense stare was very jarring, and Hiroki leaned in to glare flatly at them all with his devil-eyes glowing under his hood. 

“First, you’ll have to be willing to _put in the effort_. Am I understood?” 

The Genin nodded their heads rapidly and immediately set back to the tasks they had been assigned. They didn’t stop training till just after sunset, when Sensei declared he would treat them all to dinner. Figures he would be a cheapskate and just bring them to his apartment. 

.           .           .

 

Sensei was a surprisingly good cook. 

.           .           .

 

Sakura was still mostly awake later in the evening, and was enjoying watching the moon rise over the top of the Hokage monument. Naruto and Sasuke had passed out some time before, completely exhausted from the first day of training and stuffed with what had been a tasty, if not very fancy, meal. Egg fried rice with veggies, and some sort of glazed chicken she hadn’t had before; simple, with lots of calories and protein.  

In sleep Naruto and Sasuke were kind of… precious. They were usually so at each other’s throats but apparently the blond had fallen unconscious while needling the raven about something, and slumped across his shoulder. They were oddly cute like this. 

A faint scraping sound drew her attention away from fantasies of Sasuke falling asleep like that on _her_. Sensei was taking careful peelings off an odd bonsai tree sitting on the table. It was a peculiar pale white/grey color that Sakura hadn’t seen before, but the leaves looked rather similar to those of the Hashirama trees scattered about the village. There were some very odd wrinkles in the trunk too, almost like knuckles… but that was silly. 

Sensei collected the tiny slivers he had removed on a waxed sheet of paper and tipped them carefully into a small mortar and pestle. Grinding the bits up took only a moment before carefully rinsing the result out with boiling water into a shallow bowl. He drank all the water, and then started carefully collecting the residual dregs from the bottom. And now he was taking his shirt off again. 

Sakura turned her head away with a slight blush. Well, they were ninja, being body shy was bound to be lost sooner rather than later… but she _was_ curious. 

“What is that plant, Sensei?” 

“Hmm… probably nothing. I was merely curious myself when I found it growing… somewhere very odd.” 

Sakura glanced back over, and raised her eyebrows curiously as Hiroki continued to roll what looked like acupuncture needles in the residue and plant them very carefully in locations that seemed likely to correspond to his tenketsu, bandages from his arms carefully folded in a neat pile next to his bracers, vest, and hoodie. 

“So why…” 

“Do all of this? Hmm. Let me tell you a story.” 

Sakura sat up a little bit. Sensei seemed to know very peculiar stories. 

“Long ago and far away, and ever so long ago, there was a man. He was the first human to possess chakra, and he was called the Sage of Six Paths. He was also the bearer of a Legendary Doujutsu, the strongest of the three, called the Rinnegan. This man believed, naively, that the use of chakra would be a boon to mankind, and so he taught his techniques far and wide in the hope that the mystical energy would be a force for peace. As you might expect, this did not last and the world fell to warring once the Sage passed on to the Pure World. Now, as often happens, he had two sons. His oldest inherited some of his father’s doujutsu, but only a much weakened version. The Sharingan. The younger brother inherited his father’s unique chakra nature, though not his other skills. The two brothers fought constantly, and eventually they went their separate ways, and in the fullness of time, had children of their own. Many years passed, and their father eventually died, and with him the legendary eyes were lost. Over the generations, the descendants of the two sons forgot much of their past, and formed several ninja clans; however, two in particular kept the bloodlines strong. The Uchiha, descended of the elder son, and the Senju, descended of the younger, along with their brother clan the Uzumaki. Though they had forgotten the reasons why, still they fought, and the two lines never mingled. But, there is a legend that if the chakra nature of the younger son was reunited with the doujutsu of the elder, the eyes of the Sage would be reborn.” 

Sensei paused momentarily, his own eyes half lidded and gleaming a dull red for a second as he became lost in thought, before continuing with the careful placement of the needles. 

“I do not know if that story is true. But this should be a lesson for you. Life is, at its heart, a feat of balance and chance. You must weigh the cost against the reward; and the likelihood of the cost against the likelihood of the reward. I admit, the odds of this” -he shifted his arms slightly to set the needles glinting- “paying out are very small, but it costs me little, and the reward would be…” 

He trailed off, staring into the middle distance, before focusing for a second with his hands in the ram seal, eliciting a dim blue glow around the needles. Sakura nodded her head slowly as she examined the problem, glancing back to her Sensei as he began to remove the needles, task complete. 

“This principle applies to everything in life, anywhere you expect a beneficial outcome, not just combat applications. Your happiness is a reward for certain actions, like marrying Sasuke.” 

Her sensei looked up from packing away the supplies for a moment, a faint smile on his lips, as he checked to ensure she was paying attention. Sakura was still a bit drowsy, but she was following his words with interest all the same and blushed slightly at his comment. 

“But it is important to note that many things can make you happy, just like many things can make you strong. The hard choice to make is how to get the most from the least, how to earn the greatest strength from the smallest time spent training, or the deepest happiness from the fewest people. Everything costs something in this world. You need to spend your effort carefully, for time is ever shortening.” 

The Jounin’s mouth thinned into a tight line, gaze wandering far away. His next words were quiet enough Sakura could hardly hear them, and she wondered later if he had even been talking to her. 

“And sometimes you’ll find that the boon you paid so much for ends up being worth less than nothing.” 

He stood and turned to the young pinkette, face serious in the wan moonlight streaming through the window. 

“Sakura, the world is not fair. In fact, I would not be exaggerating overmuch to say that it can, at times, appear deliberately irrational. We cannot control the world; we can only control ourselves. You need to think long and hard about what you want out of life, and what you are willing to do to get it. Do you understand?” 

Sakura met her teacher’s eyes for a moment, before letting her gaze drift back to the waxing moon hanging over the treetops, her brow furrowed in thought.  

No one had ever talked to her like this before, like she was a, a person, an adult, someone who could think for herself and come to the right conclusion without being led by the hand. The academy teachers had always praised her for getting the right answers, but Sensei didn’t just want _correct_ answers, he wanted a thinking mind that could figure those answers out from first principles. What _did_ she want? _Why_ did she want it? How much was it _worth_ to her to get it? 

It was some minutes before she turned her head back towards the older ninja, who was apparently satisfied with his own work for the evening as he was rewinding the bandages around his arms with smooth, practiced motions. Her slight shift caught his attention though, and he paused to look back at her. 

Sakura returned his gaze for a long moment as she thought, the exhaustion of the day peeling back any excuses she might have wished for. 

“I want… I want to be someone that matters. Not just to Sasuke, but in general. Sasuke is important to me, very important, perhaps the most important thing. But I am not sure if he is… or _should_ be, _everything_. I think, if I am strong, if I am… valuable… Sasuke will want me for _me_.” 

If she hadn’t been paying very close attention, she would certainly have missed Hiroki’s words, as he once again seemed lost in his own thoughts. 

“Strength is life. Hmm. How… peculiar.”

.   .   .

 

A/N: What do you want? What do you have? How can you use the latter to obtain the former?

If you've never had it before, apricot glazed chicken is pretty easy to make and very tasty.


	36. Definition 3.5

The next five days passed rapidly, but the strain was definitely starting to wear on the group. In the end, it was Naruto who broke first. 

“Gah!” 

He slid down the side of the tree, face pinched in a frown as he failed to stick yet again. 

“This is so stupid! Why do I even need this?!” 

Sensei was generally very quiet, but Naruto’s outburst was clearly irritating to the Jounin. 

“Naruto, you need to be willing to put in the effort; every ninja needs to know this, even the Hokage-” 

“Hah! What do you know! I have a technique that could knock out the Old Man! Oiroke no Jutsu!” 

Sakura wanted to scream at her teammate from her spot hanging upside down high in the branches of the next tree over, but it was Hiroki’s reaction that surprised her more. 

“That‘s just a modified Henge variant.” 

Naruto frowned sullenly, hands folded to enhance her… assets as the Jounin simply blinked back slowly. 

“It’s my special Sexy Technique!” 

Sensei simply shook his head slowly. 

“Sakura-chan, what is the Transformation jutsu?” 

She started in surprise and jumped down from the tree to land lightly on the ground. 

“The Transformation technique is a simple disguise jutsu which uses chakra to form a solid shell around the body to change the physical appearance of the shinobi. There is some debate over whether it should be technically classified as a genjutsu but in general it is regarded as one of the simplest disguise ninjutsu, and is one of the three jutsu taught in the academy because of its broad applicability across your career.” 

Sensei nodded approvingly before he began to move his hands through a set of seals. 

“If you want a _real_ Sexy Technique, you’ll want something more like this.” 

There was a shimmer of chakra around their instructor, before… nothing really happened? Or, no- Sakura could see that there had been several small changes to the older ninja’s body; the proportions were a little off, slender hips and a little bit of a chest, and the normally close cropped hair was longer, though she couldn’t see much under the mask. 

“A proper ‘Sexy Technique’ should actually make you female. There are more advanced versions of the Transformation jutsu which can pass even a detailed inspection by anyone other than a Hyuuga. My personal variant has the advantage of providing fully functional reproductive organs, and not requiring an upkeep of chakra. However it requires extremely fine chakra control as well as an exhaustive knowledge of anatomy and familiarity with medical chakra. It also can only stretch so far; I couldn’t change my DNA to obtain a bloodline I didn’t have.” 

Sakura was perhaps very slightly envious of the figure Sensei was sporting, and Naruto seemed somewhat intrigued as well. 

“So… can I learn that instead of the dumb tree thingy?” 

The Jounin shook his head, reversing the transformation with an absent wave of his hand, before going ‘creepy’ mode and staring at Naruto with his eyes spinning. 

“No. Now get going or there will be worms in your ramen for the next month.” 

With a yelp, the blond set back to running up the tree.

 

.           .           .

 

Their training grew more intense day by day in the wake of Naruto’s minor tantrum but they only needed one joint session of physical conditioning with Maito Guy and his Genin team to gain an appreciation for how light and easy Hiroki-sensei’s regimen was comparatively. D-ranks became a sort of vacation, though even there Sensei pushed them to complete the jobs faster and faster, using their new skills like wall-walking to make the job more challenging. 

Nothing was ever easy. 

Sakura dipped backwards, feet keeping her stuck to the surface of the water as a leg swept over her head. Naruto and Sasuke were a little ways off, clinging to a wall and having a bit more trouble keeping their footing while awkwardly sparring and dodging the occasional thrown shuriken. However since the team was currently only using their bodies and chakra, (which meant their brains were ‘unengaged’ as far as Sensei was concerned) they were also enjoying one of the Jounin’s more abstract lectures. 

“As a shinobi, you may occasionally be asked to perform tasks you would prefer not to. You can of course refuse any mission below A-rank that the Hokage requests of you, excepting in times of war, or if you join ANBU. Konoha cares for its ninja and its image, and generally avoids taking less palatable missions.” 

Their Instructor had a way of talking that was almost hypnotic; a smooth cadence that wormed its way into your head like a snatch of a song you couldn’t stop humming as you walked around. 

“The important thing to remember is that you will never be ordered to do anything which is morally wrong. After all, being ordered to do something is what defines an action as being morally right, so a morally wrong order is a logical paradox.” 

The Kunoichi wasn’t quite processing the words, too focused on keeping the flow of chakra to her feet steady while throwing a punch at Sensei’s unguarded side, but she thought something about that seemed a little off. 

“Still, sometimes you will receive orders which you might _perceive_ as being wrong. In this case, one of three things has happened. The first, and most likely possibility, is that your commanding officer has information which you don’t. The order to poison a civilian water source, for instance,” -at that Naruto gave a small squawk of appalled confusion before a spray of shuriken forced him to divert his attention with a yelp- “is likely planned because it will hamper enemy forces, relying on a larger strategy you are simply not aware of. The other, much rarer, possibility is that it is your commanding officer who is misinformed. You should avoid openly question orders, but acting in private to confirm the content of your instructions and make sure you and your commander are operating towards the same goal is acceptable in some scenarios.” 

Sakura’s brows knit together as more of her attention shifted away from the practice to the somewhat worrying things Hiroki was saying. As her sensei continued a faintly manic gleam came over his eyes and his tone became heated in a noticeable change from his normally placid manner. 

“The last and most improbable reason your orders might seem wrong is because they aren’t actually _orders_. Only your superiors can give you _orders_ , and your superiors, are, by definition, truer to Konoha and the Will of Fire than you are, if for no other reason than having had more time to contemplate the _inherent rightness_ of the Village and devote themselves to its goals. The Hokage, as the highest authority in Konoha, is the physical embodiment of the Will of Fire, the _avatar_ by which we can gain greater understanding of our purpose in life and reason for existence.” 

Here their sensei paused imperceptibly in his movements, eyes flickering upwards and eyelids shuttering, before his somewhat breathy and fervent voice took on the leaden tone of a cold kunai, his probing strikes at Sakura becoming a touch more mechanical. 

“The Will of Fire is embodied in the Hokage, but the Hokage does not necessarily embody the Will of Fire. If Tsunade-hime strayed from her _function_ , then she would not be the Hokage and her orders would be invalid. In a case where the individual you incorrectly _perceived_ as your superior fails the Will of Fire, you should default to obedience to the Will of Fire Writ. In. Your. Soul. You should act to replace the _false_ superior with a properly functioning superior as quickly as possible using _whatever_ means necessary. Fortunately, this has never happened. _Ever._ The Will of Fire is perfect, total, and all consuming; it is impossible to lose it. Some simply fake possession of it for extended periods before being found out and... excised.” 

Sakura felt very slightly ill at his words, and the boys were both looking a little queasy too. She dodged the next punch somewhat clumsily before hopping off the river of boiling lava and back to the shore, leaving her teacher to stand on the liquid rock, staring towards her for a moment with slightly glazed eyes as she raised a hand to dispel the illusion. She felt a desperate need to talk about anything else, and sent her mind searching for a topic which could get things closer to passing for normal. 

“Um… Sensei, didn’t you say you’d teach us how to use a weapon today? It’s been two weeks, after all…” 

Her voice trailed off as she attempted to change the subject, but it seemed to work as Hiroki-sensei shook himself a little and turned to face the assembled Genin, Naruto and Sasuke having joined her at the bank of the stream. Sensei seemed to twitch again, and was suddenly back in a banally cheerful mood. 

“So I did! I must say, your progress has been entirely adequate the past fortnight. Have you thought about what you might like to learn? It doesn’t need to become a core part of your skill set, but having something to boost your taijutsu is a decent plan, if you’re-” 

“- _willing to put in the effort_.” 

The team completed their teachers oft repeated phrase automatically, eliciting a little quirk of lips behind the dark mask as an eyebrow drifted up a fraction in amusement. Hiroki clapped his hands together and began pulling out the arsenal again, setting everything down carefully on the grass, rather than the more haphazard explosion from last time. 

“Quite. Now; for Sasuke, I think you might like something a little bit lighter. Your speed is good and something heavy like a mace or a glaive would just slow you down. Maybe chakram? Once your Sharingan activates you’d be able to predict their paths pretty easily; I find them kind of fun myself.” 

The Uchiha shifted slightly as he glanced from the weapons to Sensei and back again, before finally his eyes settled on a slim sword with no hilt. 

“What about a sword?” 

Hiroki nodded slowly, staring hard at Sasuke. 

“Why don’t you pick it up and give it a few swings, see how it fits you.” 

With a single hand sign, a clone of their teacher formed and led Sasuke a little ways away to show him a few beginning forms. 

“Naruto? Have you thought about it much?” 

“A sword! Swords are awesome, like Samurai, all pchow-shing!” 

Sensei’s hand hesitated over a katana, before picking it up. 

“Something like this?” 

At the blond boy’s eager nod another clone formed and a similar scene started further along the bank of the river. 

“Sakura?” 

She bit her lip as she looked over the weapons; the weighted-chain was a pretty elegant tool, but… maybe the cat’s-claws? ...No, those were _girly_ ; she wanted something a little more… 

“Could I try the tessen?” 

Sensei smiled slightly and handed her the iron war-fans, which she noted with pleasure were etched with simple but lovely calligraphy. 

“A beautiful weapon for a beautiful girl. You know, my mother-” 

He cut off sharply, and shifted gears again in that oddly direct way he had. 

“I think you’ll find they work well for you. You’ll need to practice, as the forms require slight variation from the academy standard. When closed you can treat the edge like a simple blade, but when the fans are open they generate a lot of air resistance so you’ll need to get used to holding them properly for blocks and deflections while still being able to move without getting slowed down.” 

Her teacher tapped his chin thoughtfully for a moment before nodding. 

“I have found them to be pretty well suited to my own style of taijutsu, if you were interested?” 

Sakura blinked in surprise and nodded a little tentatively. 

“Are... are you sure? If it’s your personal style I wouldn’t want to…” 

She was quieted with a gently raised hand as Sensei shook his head. 

“I don’t think either of the boys would have the right mindset for it. I would be more than happy to teach you, if you desired to learn.” 

Her small smile was dispelled when a loud yelp echoed across the training area. It looked like Naruto had somehow managed to cut himself with his own sword, and the clone standing next to him looked just as bewildered as Sakura felt before it vanished in a puff of smoke. 

Sensei rubbed at the bridge of his nose gently, eyes almost closed as Naruto sheepishly returned to place the slightly battered metal back in a row with the others. 

“Well, I think not a sword, ey? But what… hmm.” 

The older teen appeared deep in thought, his eyes roving over the weapons. Sakura thought it might be a good idea to keep Naruto _away_ from sharp objects, and she eyed the tonfa for a moment before the bandaged fingers of her teacher settled around what might just be the worst possible choice. 

“Naruto, you tend to be a little too… energetic. You need to be more careful. You might heal from injuries in just a few hours, but your teammates won’t, and neither will your eventual clients. I think a weapon which can take advantage of your enthusiasm but will force you to be a bit more conscientious might be best.” 

Naruto blinked for a second at the lack of direct chastisement before flushing at the light reproof, clutching the pair of sickles joined by a length of chain tightly. 

“I- I know that Sensei! I’ll…” 

Naruto’s foot scuffed at the ground, his face downcast. 

“I’ll do better. I promise.” 

Sensei’s hand ruffled the flyaway blond hair gently. 

“I know you will.”

.  .  .

A/N:You didn't think Hiroki was _sane_ , did you? Hahaha! Silly pre-corpse!


	37. Definition 3.6

They received one day off each week, though calling it a ‘day off’ was probably too generous; it was a day of no exercise or physical exertion, but they still had training to complete. In Sakura’s case it was reading, and Hiroki had given her a hefty stack of books to study from, on every topic from human anatomy to a history of blacksmithing in Grass Country. 

She wanted to groan under the massive pile, but since it had come with a small roll of bills for snacks ‘as motivation’, she couldn't honestly complain _too_ much. There was this nice cake shop she had been meaning to visit for almost a month now, and hadn’t quite had the time… 

There were actually a few people already in line, but the girl at the register was quick to sort out everyone’s orders and in no time Sakura was enjoying her first bite of a delicious creamy chocolate cake while seated under the awning outside the cake shop. As she let out a soft sigh of satisfaction she glanced around, taking in the lovely summer weather and the nearby patrons. At the next table over, a girl a few years older than Sakura giggled softly at something her older ninja companion said, while a few tables down a Chunin she vaguely recognized from the academy scribbled furiously in a scroll. Sakura frowned slightly and glanced back at the couple; there was something familiar about the girl in the deep purple yukata… 

“Sensei?!” 

“Oh, good morning Sakura-chan!” 

Sakura’s definitely _male_ teacher brushed back the spiky profusion of ebony locks that dangled to _her_ shoulders and smiled over the edge of a deep red scarf piled loosely around _her_ neck. 

“Fancy seeing you here today! Oh, where are my manners; this is my boyfriend, Hyuuga Tetsuhide. Tetsu-kun, this is one of my Genin students, Haruno Sakura.” 

The white eyed man offered a polite head nod, sending his long blue-black hair swaying gently.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Haruno-san; Hiroki-chan has spoken much of her team.” 

Sakura stammered out a similar greeting, but couldn’t help herself as she boggled at the definitely female Hiroki sitting across from her. Sensei even had boobs! And, he-she?, did look a little different, the bones of her face a little smoother, a little more feminine, though slightly shaded towards androgyny. 

“Sensei, I- you’re…” -she paused for a moment, her brows drawing together as her eyes narrowed suspiciously- “Kai!” 

The little pulse of chakra didn’t seem to change anything, though Sensei smiled at her effort. 

“Very good Sakura-chan. But no, I really am being a girl right now. Tetsu-kun is generally ambivalent to gender, but he does prefer girls slightly over boys. Though I wouldn’t have thought of using it recreationally if it weren’t for Naruto. Such a clever child.” 

Sakura’s gaze flickered back and forth between her teacher and her teacher’s boyfriend, trying to come up with something to say as her mouth worked silently. 

“Uh... how did you two meet?” 

Hiroki smiled cheerfully. 

“Through our mutual girlfriend actually, Aburame Hanako. You might like her, she’s a very successful kunoichi, very strong. Devastating stealth too, I think she might get an offer to join ANBU in a year or two. What do you think?” 

Tetsuhide nodded placidly, his face still set in a mild expression of calm enjoyment. 

“She is very good at concealing her presence, and her kikai would be a potent asset as well. Though, you would know better than I.” 

Sensei waved a hand at her boyfriend goodnaturedly. 

“Oh stop. I know for a fact your name was under consideration at one point too.” 

He tilted his head acknowledgingly. 

“Yes, but I am content with my position. Someone has to teach the next generation.” 

Sensei giggled again, the sound oddly genuine, and gave him a gentle smile. 

“And good with children; I’m so glad I didn’t kill you.” 

The Hyuuga’s return smile was faint, and bemused, but quite fond. 

“I am too. Well, I am afraid I must depart, papers to grade. Haruno-san, it was very nice to meet you. I will see you tomorrow night?” 

He glanced back at Hiroki who smiled gently and nodded, before he walked away. 

Sakura stared after him before glancing back at Sensei, face contorted with utter confusion. She tried to arrange her thoughts, but there was quite a lot of competition for the forefront of her mind. 

“You… almost killed him?” 

“Hmm? Oh, no, well; I was planning on it though, a little. How much do you know about the Hyuuga?” 

Sakura frowned slightly and thought back over her academy lessons. 

“They’re one of the four noble clans of Konoha, and… they have a doujutsu, don’t they?” 

The young kunoichi’s teacher nodded approvingly, traces of a smile still lingering around the edges of her expression as she looked after her departed lover, though her eyes had grown slightly cooler. 

“That’s correct, but do you know anything else about them?” 

Sakura shook her head slowly. Sensei hummed and took a small bite of cake. 

“Well, it was something of a dirty secret, I suppose; I’m not that surprised you didn’t know. You see, the Hyuuga divided the clan into the Main and Branch houses. Members of the Branch house were branded with the Seal of the Caged Bird which would lock away their eyes at the moment of death. In theory this would keep the Byakugan, the Hyuuga dojutsu, safe from thieves. However, the seal also allowed any member of the Main house to inflict crippling pain or death on any member of the Branch house whenever they wanted, which was **not very** ******nice**.” 

The younger kunoichi blanched as Sensei shook her head, lips pursed in mild disapproval rather at odds with her tone of vicious despise. 

“Now obviously, such a thing is blasphemy against the Will of Fire, and practically treason to boot. If even a single Main house member was subverted, they could force the entire Branch house to do their bidding. So, I thought the simplest solution to the problem would be to just kill off all of the Main house. Except the heiress; Hinata’s such a sweet child, I’m sure she would do right by them. But!” 

She clapped her hands together, smile back in full force and slightly unsettling given the subject matter. 

“Fortunately, Hyuuga Hiashi-sama, the head of the clan, saw the light and instituted a change. Now all of the Hyuuga get a seal, but it only protects their eyes. All the members of the Branch house have had their old seals replaced over the last couple of years, so now I don’t need to kill anyone! Which is quite a relief, because it would have meant I never got to meet Tetsuhide.” 

Sakura felt a little bit better about the whole thing, but was still a trifle confused. 

“Sensei, how did something like that start in the first place?” 

Hiroki took another bite of cake, humming around the fork and looking up to follow the puffy white clouds drifting high above as she thought. 

“Well, the thing you need to remember Sakura, is that the Hidden Village system is actually quite new. I know of at least one ninja still alive who remembers the founding; two if you stretch the definition of ‘alive’. Your great-grandparents were probably born before Konoha even existed. Bringing everyone together, all those clans and wandering ninja, it took a lot of effort. Many of the clans had traditions or necessities for their techniques that they wanted to keep to themselves, so the Treaty of Konoha which formed the Village had to give them all certain rights, like the right to maintain order within the clan however they liked. The Hyuuga were an outlier, but only in the severity of their measures; they are hardly the only clan in Konoha to enforce rules on their members, some of which you or I might find… unpalatable.” 

The Pinkette took a bite of her own cake, mulling over the problem, before a slightly troubling thought made her brow furrow. 

“Did the Uchiha have anything like that?” 

Sensei froze for a fraction of an instant before smiling again, though it didn’t reach her eyes. The Uchiha’s chin tucked slightly into the scarf to conceal some of her face as her eyes drooped in a slightly predatory way. 

“No, nothing like _that_. The Uchiha were more focused on ability. You weren’t recognized as an adult member of the clan until you could use the Grand Fireball jutsu, and you weren’t allowed to sit on the clan council until you could activate your Sharingan. There were some… expectations placed on those who advanced particularly quickly, but nothing as overt as the Caged Bird Seal.” 

Hiroki shifted like a bird ruffling its feathers, fluffing out for a moment with a roll of her shoulders before giving Sakura a teasing grin. 

“But that just means you and Sasuke will get to make up your own traditions once you get married!” 

Sakura wasn’t sure what was louder, her coughing or her blush.

 

. . .

 

A/N:Meet Hyuuga Tetsuhide; he is a boss. Sakura is going to learn ALL THE THINGS!  
Also, thank goodness for butterflies, or Hinata would have been a sad _orphaned_ panda.


	38. Definition 3.7

Team 7’s (primary) kunoichi was starting to get a feel for their Jounin instructor and… it was a bit unsettling, to say the least. He (or very occasionally she) obviously tried to do what was in their best interests, pushing them in their training so hard that Sakura was quite sure something would have broken if it weren’t for all the healing they got, coupled with the large meals and the careful pattern to their practice, but sometimes that peculiar intensity would creep up and...

Hiroki-sensei wasn’t _mean_ , not intentionally anyway, but he- sometimes he didn’t seem to quite _get_ why something he did might be upsetting.

“But it’s still _orange,_ Naruto, and a prettier shade than that awful fluorescent thing you were wearing. I know you were attached to it, but you must see this is better?”

Their instructor was frowning gently behind his mask, brows pinched together as he shifted on his feet slightly awkwardly. The reason for his distress was fairly obvious: Naruto was currently vacillating between anger and mourning. All over his new clothes.

Sakura had to admit, Sensei was right; the new outfit was definitely easier on the eyes, and still had lots of orange. A slightly oversized hoodie sat atop cut-off cargo pants, hems and sleeves tied down with bandages; the hoodie was done in a dark but vibrant shade of bloody-orange while the cargo pants were black with brighter orange edges and red swirls on the pocket flaps. It was actually pretty decent looking; still bright, but no longer blinding. The only odd thing was the large kanji ‘9’ on the front of the hoodie, but she didn’t think the complaint was about that particularly.

“I- I just-” -Naruto deflated slightly and sighed, running a hand through his shaggy blond hair- “I guess so. I would have liked to say goodbye, I guess.”

He picked at the jacket in a vaguely despondent way and sighed again.

“I appreciate the thought at least. It _is_ more comfortable…”

And like that Hiroki-sensei was happy again.

“Oh good! I’m so glad you like it! Really, the future Hokage needs to dress the part you know!”

Sakura blinked and frowned ever so faintly at the Jounin.

“You really think Naruto will become Hokage?”

It wasn’t   _impossible_ she had to say; the orange ninja definitely had a way with people, and was becoming less... _erratic_ as time went on. It still seemed a stretch to imagine him in the formal white robes of the Hokage, but maybe if he was taller…?

“Of course Sakura. Last time I checked Naruto was… let’s see… him and him and him and him and… oh fuck.”

She blinked at the sudden profanity. Had she ever hear Sensei actually swear before? Naruto seemed perturbed as well, darting in front of Hiroki to look up into the hood a little anxiously.

“What? Am I not going to be Hokage?”

The elder Uchiha waved a distracted hand at the quivering blond.

“No, no, you are, you’re sixth in line, I think. But, I just realized that I’m probably uh, fifth? Because of Sensei, and his Sensei, and Tsunade-hime and… well. Uh…”

Sakura and Sasuke had stumbled to a halt a few paces on down the road, and they wore mirrored expressions of soft horror.

Hiroki-sensei was, um, a Good Ninja, but… well. It probably wouldn’t, that is to say, _Konoha_ would... Hiroki-hokage would be a little… apocalyptic? As in, would Sensei even know what to _do_ with the position? Or… just… genjutsu everywhere?

The team exchanged grim looks of determination. It was clear what they had to do.

“Naruto, you’re going to have to be Hokage someday.”

Sakura nodded alongside the younger Uchiha and they set off down the road again with long strides, Naruto still befuddled enough to simply nod in agreement and mutter a distracted thanks. Sensei flickered and was back in position ahead of them, visibly ignoring the grim revelation of the village’s potential future alongside the Genin.

“Well, I found a nice easy D-rank for us to do today, and then we can go out for some ramen before afternoon training, how’s that sound?”

He gesticulated animatedly, clapping his 3 pairs of hands together, once more in high spirits.

There was a general rumble of still faintly stunned disgruntlement and assent as the team attempted to dispel the genjutsu only to have all six arms remain in place, clasped cheerfully together. The Genin gave a collective blink, as instead the pulse of chakra simply changed Sensei’s hoodie from blue-grey to green-grey. They continued on their way towards Hokage Tower regardless, surreptitiously attempting to dispel the extra arms every so often, following behind their quietly humming teacher, who started a complicated snapping rhythm with his superfluous limbs.

Sakura was of two minds about D-rank missions. On the one hand, it wasn’t _training_ , which meant she wasn’t in a constant state of feeling like her arms and legs were about to fall off. On the _other_ hand, the missions themselves were boring as hell, and Sensei often found ways to ‘liven things up’ which could rapidly turn even something as simple as trash collection along the river into an ‘exciting’ game of dodge-the-kunai. And Sensei used _live_ kunai. (Sakura _really_ hated having a medic for a teacher.)

“So, what are we doing today then?”

Hiroki-sensei smiled down at her, patting her gently on the head with one of the aberrant limbs.

“Baby sitting.”

 

.           .           .

 

“This, is Aburame Saiko, and you will be taking care of her until her cousin finishes with his Genin team at 1. Saiko-chan is my girlfriend’s daughter, so if something happened to her, I would peel off all of your skin and then grow it back. Okay?”

That was the same threat Sensei used before every D-rank, raising the unsettling possibility that if he was serious now, he was serious every time.

“Her momma is off eating the bad ninja alive with her kikai, isn’t she? Isn’t she? Yes she is! And you’re gonna be just like her when you grow up, aren’t you Saiko-chan?”

Seeing their instructor with a baby in his arms, their cheeks squished together while he cooed to the infant, was one of those things which was just… so wrong on so many levels.

Hiroki’s smile was so big his whole face was squinted with it, but as always there was something a little bit _off_ about the expression, a certain extremeness to it that made the stretched lips ring false, even though Sakura was pretty sure he really was _that_ happy to be hugging the baby. Oh well.

“Now, I don’t want you getting lazy, so we’ll be putting in a little practice too. I’ll give you an hour to prepare before I’ll try to ‘assassinate’ little Saiko-chan.” -he gave the baby one last cuddle before gently relinquishing her into Sakura’s arms- “Your job is twofold: keep her safe, and keep her _happy_. If she cries, you lose. If I touch her, you lose. I can’t touch you, and if you touch me you win. This is good practice for future bodyguard missions; you would not _believe_ how spoiled they can be. I swear, one time a client actually complained that they couldn’t sleep with someone invisible in the room! Honestly! Like they could even tell I was _there_ , _watching_ them, _counting_ their breath…”

Sensei’s rant was dulled to inaudibility as he wandered away, shutting a sliding door behind himself as he strode off to give them time to prepare. Sakura immediately turned to Sasuke for direction, for strategic thinking was merely one of his many awesome skills.

“What should we do?”

The raven-haired boy glowered after his relative for a moment before turning to look back at the quiet infant sitting on a blanket chewing gently on a plastic kunai. After a long moment he huffed quietly and glanced at Naruto.

“Idiot. You’re good with traps, right?”

The blond was about to retort angrily, before he realized that he had been almost complimented. He swelled up and nearly started yelling with pride but caught himself at the last instant when Saiko hiccuped, and spoke in a quieter tone. His voice was still as loud as his clothing, but not quite deafening.

“Yeah! I’m the best! I can rig up something for the doors and windows…?”

He trailed off slightly, looking at his teammates for approval. Sakura nodded firmly, a confident smile on her lips.

“Good. Be extra thorough though; you know sensei will probably see through most of it. We just need to keep him away for…” She glanced at the clock in the corner, “3 hours.”

Sasuke grunted agreement.

“Naruto, spread some clones around the perimeter so we know when he’s coming. I’ll patrol the inside of the house; Sakura, you keep a look out for genjutsu. You’re the last line of defense, so make it count.”

In no time at all they were fully set up for the mission, and as ready as they could be to fight a taijutsu focused Jounin in close quarters from the wrong side of an ambush.

...They were so boned.

 

.           .           .

 

Sakura shifted the bundled up infant in her lap slightly, bouncing the larval bug ninja gently up and down and singing softly under her breath as her eyes tracked over the crack in the door and the shadows of the trees on the windows which shifted in a light breeze.

A quiet grunt from outside caught her attention and she was immediately on the alert, singing quieting as she tensed. Another soft sound drew her focus back towards the corridor where she thought she might have heard a muffled curse. A loud bang followed, causing her to jump slightly in surprise before the door slid open, a glitter splattered Naruto swiping uselessly at the thick coat of color on his clothes, stopping abruptly when he came face to face with her brandished tessen.

Her teammate’s face shifted to apologetic, smiling through the embarrassment.

“Ahh, sorry Sakura-chan, I didn’t mean to scare you. I accidentally set off one of my own traps and Sasuke said you might have some towels or something I could use to clean myself off.”

She let out a huff, eyes rolling as she lowered the fan from a ready position.

“Jeez Naruto, could you be a little less careless? You know sensei’s been trying to get you to pay more attention; the least you could do is listen.”

The kunoichi let out a sudden yawn, barely covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Naruto frowned in concern face scrunching with the motion rather cutely.

“Are you okay Sakura-chan? You’re looking a little tired. You haven’t been training too hard, have you? Sensei’s such a meanie! He should ease up on you a little!”

The pinkette sniffed, taking a deep breath and shaking her head to clear a little of the drowsiness.

“It’s better that he doesn’t. I want to be a ninja, not a pampered princess.”

The blond slouched, muttering something disparaging about crazy Jounin under his breath and stepping closer to Sakura and the baby. Her eyes narrowed a fraction, and a pulse of her chakra was followed immediately by the hand holding the tessen whipping back up to slash at ‘Naruto’s’ face. The genjutsu broke, her fatigue evaporating in an instant, and the bladed edge of the fan was blocked by a raised bracer as Sensei emerged from the puff of smoke signaling the release of a Henge.

“Very good Sakura-chan. How could you tell?”

She smiled proudly at the Jounin, shaking a few strands of hair out of the way as she pulled back and steadied herself with her fan spread in a protective position.

“The reflection on the glitter was wrong; it was too shiny. And I knew I shouldn’t have been feeling sleepy, I had a big cup of tea with breakfast and the caffeine normally keeps me awake till nearly dinner time. You shouldn’t have called attention to the genjutsu if you wanted it to slide by me.”

Sensei hummed, tapping his chin as he nodded thoughtfully.

“That’s pretty impressive Sakura-chan, but you’ve forgotten one thing.”

There was a gentle tap of fingers on her shoulder as the image in front of her wavered and dissolved.

“I’m _very_ good at genjutsu.”

Sakura gritted her teeth and smiled grimly.

“No. I didn’t.”

She dropped to one knee, holding the ‘baby’ aloft a second before the bundle in her arms exploded, orange paint splattering all the walls and coating Sakura and her Sensei in a thick layer of goop.

“...ah. Impressive. Suicidal, but impressive. Where _is_ Saiko?”

The comfy chair in the corner collapsed into sections of cardboard as the genjutsu she had used on it dissolved under the strain of the drastically changed environment. An unusually calm Sasuke held a napping Saiko, both of them clean of paint. A moment later the last member of the team stepped through the sliding door, Naruto shooting a pleased smirk at their disheveled Jounin-sensei, who nodded approvingly.

“Well, I must say, that was very well done. I hadn’t anticipated a suicide technique but there is _still_ one thing you’re all forgetting.”

The trio frowned at each other in confusion before their instructor dissolved into a cloud of smoke, and a cheerful gurgling sound came from the doorway. Hiroki stood there with Saiko in his arms, and a small smile on his face as Sasuke jerked in surprise and dropped the doll he was holding.

“I’m a _Jounin_ , and _you…_ have to clean all this up.”

Sensei was _evil_.

. . .

A/N: So, someone pointed out that Pinkette isn't a real word. True. It's what is called a neologism. Pink is not a naturally occurring hair color in humans, but, if it was, it would probably have been named by the French, like Blonde/Blond or Brunette/Brunet. Thus, Pinkette, or, in the masculine, Pinket.

Anyway; does Sasuke know Saiko is his cousin? Not explicitly. He probably suspects, after having sat with her for an hour with time to look over her features etc. But Hiroki likes to leave stuff unsaid. If Sasuke asked him outright, he'd tell the truth, or deflect in a truthful direction. But Sasuke won't ask, because it's nice to have a little ambiguity.

Also: Naruto's clothes likely matter very little in a camouflage context, but fluorescent orange is a gross color to wear day-to-day. His new duds are prettier.

So, the line of succession for Hokage on official paperwork is: Kakashi, Jiraiya, Gai, Itachi (though you need the clearance to see it), Hiroki, Naruto. The _actual_ line of succession (because Hokage choose who they want to take their place) is just Kakashi, Naruto, (if the sky is falling), Hiroki.

>  
> 
>  


	39. Definition 3.8

Team 7 was hot and grumpy but not particularly tired when the mission ended, the house restored to its former pristine state. Sakura pulled her hair back from her neck and tied it up into a bun, desire to remain cute soundly crushed by the much more practical desire to cool off after all the sweaty, dirty cleaning.

She glanced over at Sasuke, hoping he might take off his shirt to escape the heat, but sadly he seemed satisfied to simply run a hand through his glorious mane of raven black hair. Probably too proper and noble for such a low class move she thought idly, logging a few strands of hair fluttering from his beautiful head for later retrieval. Naruto had no such compunctions though, pulling his orange jacket off to reveal a mesh undershirt and significantly more toned and tanned muscle than the pinkette had been expecting.

They were just finishing up and storing away the last of the cleaning supplies when the door opened to reveal another team of Genin, one they recognized.

“Kiba!”

Naruto exclaimed in surprise when he saw the boy walking in with his dog. Sakura merely stretched tiredly and waved a hand at the other two members of Team 8.

“Hey Hinata, hey Shino. How’re things?”

The Aburame nodded cordially while the Hyuuga heiress flushed a little and smiled timidly.

“Go- good afternoon, S-Sakura-chan, um Sasuke-kun, N-naruto-kun.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow at the slight emphasis on the last name, coupled with the pronounced increase in the intensity of her blush. Sensei apparently noted it as well.

“Oh Hinata-chan! It’s been too long, how _are_ you?”

The young Hyuuga seemed as surprised as anyone at the big hug she received from the masked Jounin, but it only lasted for a second before she was plopped down next to the blond of Team 7.

“Hey, you’re good with herbs and salves, right? I think Naruto might have gotten a few little cuts on his hands, could you help him with the bandages?”

The flush on the white-eyed girl’s face grew to alarming levels as she glanced at the nearly barechested blond before Sensei leaned in to whisper something quiet in her ear. The Hyuuga heiress nodded tentatively and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before hesitantly reaching out for Naruto’s hands, a jar of ointment by her knees.

Satisfied with the pair’s progress, Sensei turned towards the boys of Team 8 who were looking at him with a certain degree of suspicion.

“Ahh, Kiba-kun! It must have been, my, something like seven years since I’ve last seen you.”

The Inuzuka glowered in confused irritation, taking a deep sniff of the air, an action mirrored by his pale white puppy.

“You smell funny.”

Sensei smiled through half-lidded eyes, expression vaguely threatening.

“You know, you said the exact same thing back then. Hmm. I suppose it was a bit much to hope that you’d remember me. I was on a Genin team with Inuzuka Nikkei. Before everyone died.”

Hiroki-sensei’s head cocked to the side with an unsettling abruptness.

“You know, I hadn’t considered it before, but Nikkei must have died just a few weeks after I did. Huh. Funny how that worked out. I wonder if she really did care…”

The silence was deafening, before once again Team 7’s designated Jounin switched rails.

“Ahh! Shino-kun! How is the colony coming along? Is the new queen settling in okay? No fights with the others?”

The Aburame boy quietly standing in the corner nodded in agreement as the other Uchiha laid a friendly arm around his shoulders.

“Quite well, Hiroki-san. Mimiko-chan is adapting well to the new conditions.”

Sakura’s teacher fidgeted a little, sending Shino sidelong looks. 

“Ne, Shino-kun, can I do the thing?”

The bug ninja stiffened slightly, brows pinching over the edge of his glass as he frowned at the Jounin, though Hiroki-sensei was not deterred.

“ _Please_? I’ll make you _mochi~_ and chocolate chip _cookies~_ ”

Shino slumped very slightly in his baggy jacket, a gesture Sensei apparently interpreted as consent. He very carefully extended two fingers before pushing them firmly into the Aburame heir’s side.

 _Squeak_...

Sakura stared, her mouth falling slightly open at a sound one would more expect to come from a rubber toy emanating from the incredibly stoic boy. The relatively quiet conversations at the edge of the room cut off abruptly as everyone turned to stare at Shino. Sensei clapped his hands together, hopping slightly in glee while emitting a most undignified sound.

“One more, one more, mochi and cookies for a month!”

His fingers pushed at the same spot on the voluminous green coat.

 _Squeak_ …

“Eee! I just love doing that, and Hanako-chan’s kikai holes are too big, it doesn’t have the same pitch…”

Shino glared at Team 7’s teacher from behind his darkened shades, a pair of pink spots high on his cheeks.

“And you would never dare do something like that to her. Why? Because she has you by the ba-”

“Hahaha! Yes, funny Shino-kun, well, we need to go, training to do, you know how it is, have a nice day, I’ll send a clone over with the first bit of your payment after dinner, okay? See you, bye now!”

Sensei couldn’t get them out of there fast enough.

 

.           .           .

 

June 14, 13 AK

Sakura jabbed the folded tip of her fan towards the incoming punch, the heavy block of metal impacting Sensei’s wrist hard enough to snap bone on a normal person, though unfortunately it merely slid through the illusory clone with a ripple of disrupted chakra.

A tingle at the back of her neck prompted her to spin around, fans unfolding with a smooth click of polished metal so that one could slide the oncoming kunai away while the other slashed at the Jounin with a serrated edge. Hiroki only narrowly dodged, the bladed fan nicking the fabric of his flak jacket.

Sakura’s eyes narrowed slightly; something about that had felt off, the weight of the kunai and the resistance of the fabric-

Her eyes widened abruptly and she clasped her hands together around her folded fans to dispel the genjutsu. Sensei looked surprised and pleased from his position several feet away, a brace of senbon poking between his fingers. She slid the fans into holsters at her waist and in the same motion pulled out a half-dozen shuriken, hurling them forward in a wide arc so that a few collided and went spinning in unpredictable directions.

Even as her teacher deflected and dodged the projectiles she Substituted with a small boulder behind him, coming out of a crouch with her fan back in hand and hurtling towards the unprotected small of Sensei’s back-

Bandaged fingers tapped her on the shoulder and she stumbled a little as her strike met nothing but air, before turning to face Hiroki with a sigh. However, contrary to her expectations, the Jounin was smiling faintly at her, fairly radiating approval.

“Well done Sakura. Very well done. You noticed the genjutsu tells perfectly, and your Substitution was almost perfect; hardly any waste or indication of your target. Your shuriken jutsu could use a bit of work though, the spread was a little on the wide side, even for blocking escape routes.”

The young kunoichi flushed slightly at the praise and rubbed a hand against the back of her head a bit sheepishly, breathing still a bit heavy from the exertion. She and Sensei turned to watch the boys in their sparring while she caught her breath, spending a moment in peaceful silence.

Her gaze trailed after Sasuke’s moves, each strike at his opponents a flowing sweep as the long straight sword seemed to echo his motions like a ribbon of silver. His sword form was superb, not an action wasted, and his physical form was quite lovely to watch too, lithe and leanly muscled like a panther or a snake. Sakura surreptitiously wiped away a spot of drool, and caught Sensei smirking faintly out of the corner of her eye.

“Have you thought more about what you want, Sakura?”

She nodded confidently, surveying her love and her other teammate confidently.

“I want Sasuke. I want Team 7 to be great. I want power.”

The pinkette very deliberately ignored the faint squee of affection which came from her Sensei at the last, but smiled proudly all the same. After a moment to compose himself, Hiroki nodded firmly.

“Well, I think you might just be ready for a C-rank.”

 

.           .           .

 

To her surprise, the strongest objector to giving new Genin a potentially dangerous mission was their former academy instructor.

“They’ve only been Genin for a month! They can’t possibly be-”

“I don’t think you’re quite grasping the lengths they’ve gone to, Iruka-san. I wouldn’t let them take on a mission if I didn’t think they could bring it to completion.”

Sensei fluttered his eyelashes at the agitated Chunin, leaning in slightly and speaking with a husky voice.

“You know how good I am at teaching people how to tackle big jobs.”

To Sakura’s surprise, the academy teacher began to stammer and flush before sitting back down abruptly, a single drop of blood beading at his nose. Hokage-sama raised an amused eyebrow before she held out a scroll for Team 7, the purple varnish on her nails glinting slightly.

“If you’re sure Hiroki, I do have a pretty easy mission for you. Escort, two weeks tops.”

The Jounin froze, turning to look at the blonde Hokage with an expression devoid of any emotion.

“...Escort? Who’s the client?”

The Godaime’s eyes narrowed slightly, noticing the slight shift in tone.

“Tazuna, the bridge builder. Needs protection on the way back to-”

“-the Land of Waves.”

Tsunade-sama nodded slowly, staring hard at Hiroki-sensei, her amber eyes piercing.

“Yes… this isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”

Sakura frowned, glancing between the two high ranking shinobi, trying to figure out what they seemed to be communicating without using words. Her sensei opened his mouth for a moment, his mask stretching as he paused, gaze distant. After a second he shook his head slowly, a somewhat pensive frown visible through the fabric.

“No… no, it should be fine.”

Hokage-sama settled back into her chair, still looking hard at the Jounin before nodding assent.

“Very good. Tazuna-san!”

The door at the back of the room opened to admit an older gentleman taking a swig of something with an exceedingly pungent smell. Sakura wrinkled her nose disapprovingly but didn’t comment on the public drunkenness.

“This the team then? I didn’t pay good money for a bunch of snot nosed kids.”

Sensei glowered menacingly at the inebriated man, looming in that special way that only a professional assassin can.

“Oh, don’t worry Tazuna-san, I’m sure we’ll be fine. It’s not like anyone is really trying to kill you, after all.”

Sakura frowned at the tiny flinch from the old man, but Hiroki-sensei just hummed to himself in a musing tone as he scanned over her and her teammates, looking for something she couldn’t figure out.

“The more things change, the more things stay the same…”

 

.   .   .

A/N: Tsunade should have put more faith in Hiroki's notes...  
Well, I'm sure everything will turn out fine!  
  
Sakura is becoming moderately badass, and that fills Hiroki with [unspeakable emotions](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ao-ikapZpF4).  
  
And thus does her slice of the arc end. Next up: Naruto!

Also: the 'sequel' is smut. Just smut. Enjoy.


	40. Definition 4.1

May 14, AK 13

Naruto thought his new Sensei was pretty great, mostly, if very confusing. It had started on the very first day and just kept going since then.

“Naruto? Could you come over here for a minute?”

The blond heaved himself up with a grunt before running over to his teacher in the shade of a nearby tree.

“Yeah Sensei?”

For the first time since he had met the Jounin, Naruto thought he looked a little unsure, picking at the tips of the bandages around his fingers.

“I asked the Hokage for permission, since I will be residing in the village consistently as your Sensei, and… well, we’re sort of related anyway, kind of, a little, since my Sensei was your father’s student, and your Genin team is a bit like your children, which would make me kind of like your nephew, if you liked, though Sensei should really be doing this, but he’s still not quite over your father’s death and the loss of his team, and he has big responsibilities now too, but he would probably come by to visit if you were there, and maybe your godfather too, though he’s an idiot and kind of a dick and has lots of work as well, but they could tell you stories, because I never really got to meet your parents personally, and I was thinking of getting a bigger place soon anyway, and that could be a, you know, thing, we did, and, well, what do you think?”

The blond frowned, eyebrows pinched together as he tried to figure out what Sensei was saying. Sensei knew his parents, a little, or at least his dad? And he had gotten permission to do something… where was the question though?

His head tipped to the side as he squinted at the older teen who was shifting slightly in an apprehensive way.

“Ne, Sensei, you didn’t actually ask me anything?”

Hiroki-sensei blinked, surprised, tapping his fingers together.

“I didn’t? Oh, I, well. I want to adopt you. If, you know. You didn’t mind…”

Naruto was quiet for a long moment, his mind racing. Each second of quiet seemed to make his teacher more nervous though, for he almost immediately started waving his hands and trying to ease the tension.

“I mean, I know you’re a Genin now, and- well, you have your own apartment and everything and I… well… I mean- I understand if you… you know, aren’t… interested, but maybe you could just, come by and… stay with me? Sometimes? Maybe? If you wanted…?”

The orange ninja coughed and rubbed at his nose, looking away and nodding a little jerkily.

“Yeah! Sure, if uh, you wanted, I wouldn’t mind.”

He was having a little trouble speaking around a sudden dryness in his throat, but Sensei seemed to get this, because instead of saying anything the Jounin just stood a little closer and put a hand on his back while looking off in the direction of the rest of the team.

“Cool. I… cool. Thank you. Um, well, I was going to have the team come by for dinner tonight, and if you like you could, maybe stay over? To get a feel for the place, is all. And we could just… see how it goes for a little while. Okay?”

Naruto sniffed a little, pulling himself up before nodding firmly.

“Cool.”

 

.           .           .

 

May 19, AK 13

Naruto had been a tiny bit worried at first that it would be kind of weird having an older brother kind of person as his teacher, but when he thought about it a little it wasn’t quite as big of a problem as it might have been. Iruka-sensei had been kind of like that too, and anyway, Hiroki- _sensei_ and Hiroki- _niisan_ were very different.

Sensei was always staring at them in a way which was… well, yeah, a little creepy, but if you paid attention, like Naruto did, then you’d notice that the stare wasn’t _trying_ to be creepy, it was just… intense. It was a little funny too, because Naruto noticed that the way the Jounin looked at each of them was a little bit different.

Sakura got the ‘I’m curious what you’ll do next’ flavored stare, like Sensei was always faintly pleasantly surprised by how awesome she was, which was silly because she was obviously _super_ awesome.

He personally received the ‘I am waiting for you to do the thing’ stare, like Sensei knew something mildly cool was about to happen and was just waiting for him to do it, which made sense, seeing as he was going to be Hokage one day.

The stare Sasuke got was… well, Naruto had been a little confused by that at first too, because it was almost like Sensei didn’t _quite_ trust the younger Uchiha. The Bastard’s stare was almost ‘I don’t know if I should be teaching you or not’, which… the blond didn’t quite get. Sure, Sasuke was a bastard, but he wasn’t… well, he wasn’t going to _hurt_ them or anything.

All the stares went away in brother-mode though, and instead they got replaced by...

Naruto had heard the expression ‘precious person’ before but he hadn’t really know exactly what that _looked_ like, not really. When Hiroki-nii was cooking him breakfast, or telling him to brush his teeth, or whatever, the look on his face was like, Naruto was made of gold or something. It was like nothing else mattered at that moment but what he thought, that he understood, that he was safe and healthy. It was like Hiroki-nii thought Naruto was going to run away or disappear if he was out of sight for a moment.

It was enough to make a guy a little nervous to be perfectly honest, and five days in, Naruto was actually thinking of staying at his own apartment for the night instead... before he saw the little photographs on the end-table next to Hiroki-nii’s bed.

It had been another weird thing about the Jounin, having a bed that he never slept in. Naruto had actually once woken up in the middle of the night for a glass of water only to find the older ninja stuck to the ceiling in the kitchen staring vacantly at the floor with glazed eyes and screamed loud enough to wake the neighbors. But at any rate the door to the bedroom was usually closed.

The door had been cracked open that evening, and Sensei had been talking to Sakura-chan and frying some vegetables while the blond took a moment to slip out and use the bathroom. His brother somehow knew how to make the disgusting things almost edible, which was practically magic as far as Naruto was concerned, but the call of nature waits for no man.

Sassy-chan (Fovea was a _dumb_ name) had brushed through his legs and into the dimly lit space beyond the cracked door and he had been curious enough to follow, spotting the simple wooden frames pretty quickly in the mostly barren room where they sat on the little table next to the bed.

The photos were old, the colors faded and a little yellowed at the edges, but the kid in the center was more or less recognizable as Hiroki-nii, smiling that small, nervous smile rather than the big, fake one he normally used. It was weird seeing Sensei look so young, and without a mask too, but it was the other people that really drew his attention. A stiff looking man with the same little stress lines as Hiroki-nii, and a woman who looked proud but a little sad with similar eyes.

The other photo was more familiar, a Genin team, with Hiroki-nii in the middle. The girl on the right had big red tattoos on her face, like Kiba, and the boy on the left was smiling hugely and had an arm slung around the much smaller Uchiha. The Jounin behind the kids had a mask too, and a big poof of crazy white hair; his one visible eye looked a little bit embarrassed, but generally happy.

“Naruto, dinner is rea- oh.”

He quickly put the photo back on the end table and backed away, feeling a little guilty.

“Ahh, sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop, I was just following Sassy…”

But Sensei didn’t seem angry, just a little… blank, as he released the door handle and stepped into the only partially illuminated space.

“No; no of course, it’s fine. You were just curious.”

The hooded teen moved up next to Naruto quietly, picking up the picture of the Genin team to look at it for a moment.

“I had forgotten this was in here, I suppose…”

He trailed off, seeming lost in thought, and Naruto shuffled a little bit before asking the question.

“What are their names?”

Hiroki-nii looked up like he had forgotten Naruto was there, before blinking and nodding, smiling the empty smile, though it wasn’t quite as empty as normal for some reason, now filled instead with something vague and dark lurking around the edges.

“Inuzuka Nikkei and Shimura Wasabi. Team 19. I was early graduation, as you could probably guess. So tiny. It took us a little while to… get everyone really working together. But Wasabi…”

A finger trailed over the glass covering the picture to rest on the smiling boy.

“He was always really cheerful. A little like you, now I think about it, but he had a serious streak when we were on missions, always looking out for me. And Nikkei, once we had gotten a little closer, well, that was that. Inuzuka always look out for the good of the pack. Sensei… I don’t think he really warmed up to me; his old teammate had been an Uchiha and there were some… memories. But he always did right by me. Taught me quite a bit. We were a great team. Nikkei was actually the one to give me Fovea, you know.”

Hearing that he reminded Sensei of his team brought a grin to Naruto’s face.

“That’s so cool! Can I get a ninja animal too? Do they have students now? Could we train together sometime?”

The picture went back on the little table with a click as halting words filled the dusty quiet of the purple room.

“No, I’m afraid they never got to take students. Wasabi, he- took a bad hit during our second Chunin exams and I didn’t- I didn’t know as much medical jutsu as I do now. But I still got promoted, anyway, and so Sensei went back to ANBU and Nikkei- we hadn’t- I didn’t know how to, keep the friendship going. She tried but I was… distracted. And then her- her squad got ambushed and she stayed behind to let them escape…”

The mask betrayed nothing as Hiroki-nii starred in the direction of the photos and Naruto felt a sick sinking in the pit of his stomach.

“And I wasn’t _there_. I was still in the hospital after the Massacre, little quirk of fate I lived even though... mother and father… So it was just me and Sensei. I got lucky, I think, because we were placed on the same squad in ANBU for a while, and he’s, he’s doing good, now, but… well. For a while it was just me.”

The smile Naruto received didn’t look happy at all, and moreover seemed familiar, because it was an awful lot like the smile he saw in the mirror sometimes. It was the smile he wore when he came home to an empty apartment after not having gotten a single person to _look_ at him all day; the not-smile which made things better only by virtue of letting him ignore them.

“But it’s okay now, cause I’ve got my own students, and Hanako, and Tetsuhide, and Anko, and- and it’s okay, now.”

Naruto stood silent for a moment, thinking, before reaching a decision. He stretched out a hand and grabbed his brother’s, bandaged fingers hanging slack for a moment before twining firmly with his, pressure carefully measured to be merely firm, and not overly hard.

“Yeah, it’s okay now.”

His smile was a little watery, but it seemed to pull Hiroki-nii out of the sad place, because there were little creases in the mask that meant there was a very small smile under it. Naruto coughed a little to clear his throat and pulled them towards the door.

“Ne, you said dinner was ready, right? I’m so hungry I could eat a dozen bowls of ramen easy; your workouts make me so tired niisan, I’m never going to get used to them. Anyway, I was thinking, about how you said we could look at some new places, ‘cause your bathroom is like, _so_ small, and, you know, obviously it will _have_ to be orange, cause orange is the best, but I also want some nice big windows so my plants will be happy, and-”

Naruto kept rambling, because Hiroki-nii kept smiling, and nodding, and holding his hand, and he thought that, while it might be kind of weird, sometimes, doing this whole family thing, well, families stick together. So they’d just have to find a way.

.           .           .

A/N: Did someone order a heaping helping of feels?

Note: Naruto does not know who his parents are. Hiroki isn't allowed to tell him that. Hiroki knew someone who knew Naruto's parents. The composition of Team 19 is not listed in any public records. Hiroki never says Kakashi's name. While he could tell Naruto why he couldn't tell him anything (your parents were powerful ninja with lots of enemies), he wouldn't and couldn't tell him anything else.

 Thematic music for Naruto's arc: I’m so lucky -Luckytwice

(Okay, my power just went out for a sec, so chapter two might be delayed a bit due to inclement weather)


	41. Definition 4.2

Naruto took it back. Hiroki-nii was a _lame_ teacher. _So_ lame. Like-

“I can hear you grumbling. Grumbling is not the path to inner peace.”

He slumped onto his back to stare at the ceiling, groaning loudly at the thick bars of light streaming through the floor to ceiling windows.

“Ugh! Sensei, this is so _boring_. Why can’t I do something cool, like Sakura or the asshole?”

Niisan opened a single eye to look at him from across the open expanse of the hardwood floor, expression unimpressed.

“Sakura is currently reading about a dozen textbooks. Sasuke-kun is learning to differentiate toxic herbs by taste. Would you rather be doing that?”

He sighed heavily and let his head thump down again, absently tracking a floating dust mote.

“ _No_. I guess not. But why do we have to do _this_? It’s so-”

“Critically important to someone who wants to be Hokage someday.”

“UGH! But _why_?”

Naruto knew his voice was getting whiny, and he knew that Hiroki-sensei wouldn’t be making him do this if it was genuinely pointless, but it was still so. Very. Boring!

His brother sighed lightly and rose from his meditative pose to pad gently over to him on bare feet.

“Head up. Down.”

His puff of blond hair was now resting in the Jounin’s lap, normally tightly wrapped fingers looking unnaturally pale before they started to comb through his hair.

“Breathe deep. Feel your lungs move. Feel the air filling them. Imagine that it is water, heavy and thick, being sucked into a balloon before being squished out again. Push with your stomach, force the water out. Pull with your stomach, suck the water in. Leave your chest out of it, and focus on your breathing; keep it even, and steady, and deep.”

Naruto shifted slightly to get more comfortable, enjoying the feeling of fingers scratching at his scalp while trying to focus on the sensation in his lungs.

“Meditation is an important skill for ninja, because it helps to build your Yin chakra nature, as well as improving control over your chakra in general.”

Blue eyes flicked open for a second, but before he could voice a question the fingers on his hair tightened for a second as niisan raised an eyebrow.

“ _Focus on your breathing_. Chakra is the energy ninja use for jutsu. It has two parts: mind and body. Yin and Yang. Yang is easy to build, you just exercise and train. Yin is harder, you need to train your _mind_. Later we might try studying some complicated stuff, but for now you need to get a better feel for your own body and chakra, and the best way I know to do that is with meditation, so, _breathe_.”

He wanted to grumble, but the gentle touches in his hair were very comforting, and the light coming in through the broad window was warm, and it had been a long day…

“ _Don’t_ fall asleep, we want you relaxed, not unconscious. Now, I want you to imagine that there was a fire, burning deep in your gut. It’s a nice fire, the kind you’d make if you were out camping, a little fire, warm and bright and soft, can you feel it? The spot of warmth in your stomach, like a hot meal on a cold day. Everytime you breathe in, the fire gets a little bigger, a little hotter. When you breathe out, the fire contracts, it shrinks a bit, gets a little cooler. Big… and small… grow… and shrink… can you feel it?”

He nodded slowly, keeping his breath steady. It was a nice feeling.

“Good. Now imagine the fire was leaking, like a liquid, sending little golden trickles outwards from your gut, and every time it grows, the trickles go further out, all the way from your gut, to your chest, to your shoulders, to your arms, to your elbows, to your wrists, to your fingers. Your fingers are little pools of the liquid, and your breathing is the pump, slowly filling up the pools, every breath a little bit fuller, a little bit brighter, a little bit hotter, keep breathing, focus on your breathing, the pools are filling up, breathe even, good, slowly open your eyes as you keep breathing, keep pumping the bellows to keep the fire burning, to keep the liquid flowing, to keep the pools filing. Breathe, Naruto, breathe. Look at your fingers.”

His eyes were tired, but he pulled them open and looked down at his fingers. They were glowing, a bright blue color which slowly pulsed in time with the motion of his chest. His face split into a huge grin as he looked up at Hiroki-nii, who was smiling proudly too.

“Very good Naruto. Well done. But we’re not quite done, okay?”

He closed his eyes and resettled himself, face still grinning.

“Sure thing Sensei, what next?”

 

.           .           .

 

He didn’t quite doze off, but listening to his brother’s voice while soothing fingers trailed through his hair was very relaxing. Naruto let himself sink deeper into the warmth in his core, feeling it stretch and flex as he willed it too. It was so warm here, and he felt like he could just sink forever…

It was cold, and damp.

Naruto’s eyes blinked open at the sudden shift, brows pinching a little in confusion as his bro’s quiet voice filtered back into his awareness.

“-my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey… Naruto? Is everything okay?”

He licked his lips a little, unsure how to describe what had happened.

“I felt something. Like I was someplace else for a moment, underground somewhere.”

The fingers in his hair slowed for a moment before resuming, rubbing firmly at the skin just behind his ears.

“...I see. That was probably Otsutsuki-sama’s prison.”

His frown got deeper.

“Who?”

Hiroki-nii’s mouth pinched unhappily, though it wasn’t aimed at Naruto.

“Kyuubi-sama.”

“What?!”

He bolted upright in surprise, his forehead connecting painfully with the Jounin’s chin.

“Ow, ow, ow, what the hell?! You didn’t tell me I might get stuck in there!”

The black haired teen was rubbing tenderly at his chin with green glowing fingers. Naruto rubbed at the spot on his own head which was throbbing uncomfortably.

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to relax. And you couldn’t have gotten stuck in there. Come here, I want to check your forehead.”

Naruto scooched back across the floor, pointing a finger at the other ninja in agitation.

“You called him Kyuubi-sama, what the heck?!”

Hiroki-nii frowned sharply at him, and spoke with a firm voice.

“Naruto! _Come here_.”

The blond froze at the sharp tone and slowly moved back towards his teacher, who eventually grew irritated enough with his sluggishness to reach out and grab the collar of his jacket, pulling Naruto into a spot in his lap. One arm went around his chest to hug him close, and the other started rubbing gently at the spot on his forehead which still stung a little.

“The Kyuubi-sama deserves your respect, Naruto. If nothing else, you two will be together until you die, so being impolite is just being a bully.”

Naruto gave a squawk of protest before Sensei hugged him even tighter and drove a bit of air out of his lungs.

“ _Listen_. The Kyuubi is _old_. Very, very old. Older than the Hokage, older than Konoha, older than _ninja_. He was made by the Sage of Six Paths centuries ago, from the corpse of a defeated monster. But he isn’t bad, or evil. He simply is.”

He drove an elbow into the older boys gut and wiggled about a little, though he didn’t fight the hug.

“He attacked the village! He… he killed my parents…”

He could hear the unhappily pursed lips of his Sensei without even having to look.

“Your parents died because of… well. They did what they thought was right. Maybe it _was_ the right choice; I don’t know. But that’s not the point.”

Hiroki-nii _never_ got angry. It was something Naruto really liked, actually; even after he had spilled a bucket of paint over some diagrams that looked really important the teen just sighed and helped him clean up. But now, now his voice was… scary.

“Imagine that one day, as you were lying in the sun taking a nap, a ninja came up and hit you over the head. While you were still confused and hurting, he put you under a mind-control jutsu, and forced you to fight someone really strong, who hurt you and tied you up. Then, the guy who beat you told everyone you were just a dumb animal, and put you in a tiny cage full of knives and broken glass, where a woman came by every once in a while to rip out your hair so she could make thread out of it and remind you that you’d never get out, and never be free, and you _deserved_ to be caged, you filthy, stupid monster.”

The arms around him were almost painfully tight, and Naruto was starting to get a bad feeling about the story.

“And _then_ , one day, it seemed like you might be able to get away, because something happened to the woman, and the cage started getting creaky, like you might be able to break out, but- The first man came back. The one who hit you, and forced you to fight a stranger. And it was _just_ like the first time, where you were helpless in your own body, barely even aware of what was happening around you, but you were just, so _angry_ , because you- you were almost able to get away, from the cage, and the mean woman who pulled out your hair and said you were a mindless monster, and you were trying, so hard, to get away, to fight off the control… but before you could, just as the fog was starting to fade a little… your left arm and leg and eye were cut off and you were stuffed back in a cage, stronger than the one before, with bars thicker than your arm. And you were never going to get out.”

The arms around him went slack, and a little push had Naruto hoping to his feet to turn and look at his brother. The Jounin looked so tired, and it… hurt… a little, to see that sort of expression on his face.

“To the best of my knowledge, the worst thing the Kyuubi has ever done was to be exploited as a weapon by other people. If he hates us, it is because we have done everything to deserve it. For the good of Konoha.”

The blacked haired boy rubbed at the tired lines of his face before sighing heavily.

“You shouldn’t judge before you know the whole story, Naruto. And you should never take the words of people who have been hurt at face value. Even if they aren’t lying, they might not be telling the truth.”

Naruto fiddled with his hands uncomfortably, worry gnawing at his gut.

“Could… could we let him out? Without him hurting anyone?”

The hooded head shook slowly.

“If you let him out, you would die. And he would never be free for long. He makes for too powerful a weapon. He’d be back in a cage, alone and hating, before you were even cold.”

His fist balled in the sides of his jacket as he bit his lip.

“Isn’t there something we could do?”

Hiroki-nii shrugged uncomfortably, pale face shadowed by the long angle of the sun shining through the windows.

“You can try to be his friend. Try to get him to let go of the hate. As I understand it, your seal is much nicer than the one he used to be in, and… maybe we could make it even better. He spends most of his time napping anyway, he might not mind giving up some of his chakra to… a friend.”

The Jounin rolled his shoulders and sighed again before giving Naruto a slightly forced smile.

“Well, I wasn’t really planning on having _that_ conversation with you just yet. It’s been a long day. How about we go for some ramen?”

It didn’t quite restore the earlier pleasant mood, but Naruto smiled a little anyway. Ramen made everything better.

.   .   .

  
A/N: So, Hiroki might be a very tiny bit obsessed with Naruto. In other news: the sealing of the Bijuu was so f'ed up, and raises **sooo** many questions. Like, what were they doing for the multiple centuries before Madara found the Kyuubi? Why didn't the Shodaime just ask, if he could? None of them seem to really mind the actual state of being sealed, they just nap all the time anyway, and if they are chilld dudes, as seems to be the case, then telling them of the danger they now pose to stability would probably be enough to get them to allow themselves to be sealed, provided the seal wasn't like, I dunno, a [giant ball of spikes and chains](https://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/naruto/images/a/aa/Kurama_sealed_within_Kushina.png/revision/latest?cb=20160129054737)?


	42. Definition 4.3

“What was your team like?”

Niisan took a bite of noodles while Naruto stirred his bowl with slightly sluggish movements, watching the small fishcake spin slowly on top of the broth.

“Well, I told you that you remind me of Wasabi, but, you know, not _that_ much. He had a good sense of humor too, but he preferred jokes more than pranks. Wordplay was his favorite thing; he loved the faces people would make when he tricked them into saying something that sounded dirty.”

The Jounin snickered a little and took another bite of his food while Naruto started nibbling at his own bowl, depressing funk fading like morning mist before the dawn.

“Oh man, there was this one time though… Nikkei had turned 15 a few months before but she already had very well developed…” -Niisan stopped, hands held out in front of his chest, and coughed as Ayame-nee glared- “ehem… skills. It was a little funny too, because the Inuzuka are usually really chill about... that sort of thing, but whenever Wasabi slipped in a little innuendo she would flush like a tomato. Anyway, we were running a D-rank, doing some grocery shopping I think, and Wasabi made a crack about the ‘ripeness of her melons’ and she got really mad and stalked off so we had to complete the job by ourselves. We were a little worried she might have been _really_ mad, but she came back the next day with a C-rank seduction mission to prove she did _so_ have nice- um, skills.”

Hiroki-nii slurped his ramen for a second while Ayame-nee stirred a big pot rather aggressively, still giving the Jounin a filthy look.

“Well, we were pretty surprised, because normally a seduction mission would be a B-rank, at minimum, and they only give those to Chunin and up, but apparently there were some extenuating circumstances that made this only a C-rank, so they’d be willing to give it to experienced Genin. One of the things was that the mission was in Tea Country, which doesn’t have any ninja or much of a military, very peaceful place Tea. The other bit was the target; we were trying to get some info from the Minister of Agriculture.”

Bracers glinted in the air as his brother poked in his direction with chopsticks. Naruto was just nodding along and finishing his fourth bowl of pork ramen, unhappy mood entirely forgotten.

“Now, Tea is a big exporter of, well, tea, which is a valuable industry, but most of the time when you’re trying to do a little corporate espionage you’d go for the Minister of Commerce or something like that, right? But our client was a clever guy, and he did big trades on, oh, complicated business stuff, basically he just wanted to know if the crops were looking good or bad so he could decide whether to buy lots of tea because it was cheap, or sell lots of tea because it was going to be expensive, you see? So we were going after a minor target too, low risk, probably no competition from foreign ninja, easy job, take a couple weeks tops. Apparently the client had actually hired Konoha to run this very same mission five years in a row now, so we were pretty confident.”

Naruto bobbed his as a long trail of noodles slid from the bowl all the way to his stomach, and even Ayame-neechan seemed interested despite her earlier irritation.

“Well, it wasn’t until we actually got to Tea Country that we found out why it was _really_ rated as a C-Rank. See, normally, even if there were no problems about enemy-nin it would still be a little higher ranked because of the… pressure on the Kunoichi, you know? But, it turned out that the Minister of Agriculture was a bit of a lech; his wife was an unbearable harpy and not very good looking either, so about once a month he would visit a certain brothel in the capital city. This brothel was special though, because it served some of the strongest Junmai-shu in the Elemental Nations; they must have had some sort of ninja yeast or _something_ because I swear it had to be at least 30% alcohol, which is ridiculous, but worked out very well for us, because our target was a bit of a drunkard too. We talked to one of the teams that had run the mission before, and apparently the good Minister got _so_ drunk _so_ fast that he never tried anything more than heavy petting before falling unconscious, so the actual tricky bit was to get the information _before_ he did, because once he was out he was _out_.”

The blond flushed a little at the mention of pervy stuff, but kept nodding along. Perverts must be an endemic problem everywhere, not just Konoha.

“Anyway, so, we had infiltrated the brothel, right? Even back then I was a dab hand at genjutsu, so it wasn’t hard to fake our way in. Me and Wasabi were posing as wait staff, bringing people drinks and things, and Sensei was posing as a… patron, while Nikkei was going to be a working girl. Now, this was a high class establishment you understand; the girls weren’t quite geisha but they weren’t that far below that level either, lovely silk kimonos all around. Sensei had a very nice plumb number on, and he had actually done something with his hair for once, which is going to be important in a bit here. So, imagine it for a moment.”

Niisan waved his hands in gentle circles, painting the scene with words, and Naruto could almost see it in his mind’s eye as it was described to him, smoky atmosphere and all.

“Nice little parlor space, dark wood everywhere, koi pond in the corner, little booths around the edges, dimly lit with scarves and pillow scattered around to make it seem cozy, stairs going up to the rooms, me and Wasabi walking around keeping quiet and bringing people drinks, and then... down those stairs walks a _vision_.”

There was a soft reverence in Hiroki-nii’s tone and the blond could picture it perfectly, though in his mind’s eye the girl walking down the stairs had pink hair and a flowing teal kimono.

“We had _never_ seen Nikkei dressed up before, she was an Inuzuka! They never put on anything as fancy as a kimono, but there she was in this gorgeous dark crimson thing, and she had her hair done up, and a little makeup on, and she had bathed recently so it was just… _wow_. I wasn’t quite old enough to be really interested in girls yet but even I was impressed, and Wasabi looked like someone had hit him in the face with a club he was so surprised. You could see Nikkei had noticed, because she had this smirk on that would send chills down your spine she was so pleased with the effect she was having on him. The Minister had just walked in, and I used a little suggestion to pull his attention towards Nikkei while Wasabi diverted some of the other patrons so she could get to the target.”

The Uchiha leaned in conspiratorially, and the orange ninja and shop girl leaned in a little as well, caught up in the mood.

“Now, the thing was, Nikkei might have cleaned up really well, but she was hardly a lady, and she had no idea what to say to the guy once she had him settled down and chugging sake like it was water, so she just sort of tittered a little and waved a fan in her face to hide that she was starting to feel a bit out of her depth.”

Naruto snickered softly around his mouthful of ramen as niisan grinned at him and even Ayame-nee seemed reluctantly amused, if the slight quiver to her shoulders was anything to go by.

“Well, it was starting to get a little late, and the Minister was starting to get _completely_ sloshed, slurring his words and everything, but Nikkei hadn’t gotten the info she needed yet and she was starting to get really nervous, but she would be _damned_ if Wasabi was right about her not being able to do this sort of thing so she mustered up her courage, and took a deep breath. She fluttered her fan a little slower, blinked her big pretty eyes, leaned in close, and in a breathy, husky, sexy voice said… ‘hey baby, wanna bone?’”

The blond choked on a mouthful of ramen and there was a clattering sound from the kitchen as an empty pot fell off the counter. Hiroki-nii gave a wry smile and nodded sympathetically, patting him on the back to clear his throat.

“Yeah, that was about the response we had too. Wasabi tripped over his own feet into the koi pond, and I spilled some booze on the girl sitting by Sensei. Now, Nikkei, she got splashed a little when Wasabi fell over, and a little water got on her kimono, but she was trying to play it off like ‘ooh, now I need to take off these wet clothes’ and started slipping her shoulders out before she realized a fish had gotten launched out and slid down her back. She started freaking out a little trying to get it out while not showing anything was wrong, and the Minister was loving it, he thought she was doing some sort of sexy dance for him. Wasabi was trying to pull himself out of the pond, but my genjutsu was still lingering around him so people wouldn’t pay as much attention, so no one was helping him. The girl I had spilled on slapped me up the head and stalked off while I was stammering out apologies, and while we were distracted the Minister had gotten dizzy from all the ‘dancing’ and passed out.”

Naruto groaned sympathetically and shook his head, chuckling at the scene he could almost paint over his own teammates.

“So, now Nikkei is losing her mind, because the Minister only comes once a month and if it took that long to complete the mission we wouldn't get paid, the info wouldn’t be worth anything. So, she ripped off her kimono and threw it away, which made this other old guy trip over Wasabi to land on top of me, and she started shaking the Minister yelling at him to wake up and tell her she was pretty, and Wasabi thought that I was being molested by the old guy on top of me, and Nikkei is bursting into tears and completely ruining her nice makeup so she looked like a racoon, all because she was so stressed about failing the mission and everything, until Sensei wanders up and says ‘good work team!’”

Now they were all laughing outright, even Teuchi, who had poked his head out of the kitchen a few moments ago to see what the commotion was about.

“So, we’re all just staring at him, because as far as we could tell the mission was a total wash, but! Remember how I said Sensei had dressed up really nice? Well, the girl I had splashed sake on had been wearing a very similar kimono and sitting just to the side of him, and the moment she got up to leave the guy she had been chatting up was distracted, he didn’t notice, he just thought she had moved over a little. So _that_ guy had been trying to get with Sensei for a few minutes, and whenever Sensei tried to put him off he had just started boasting more grandly to try and impress the ‘beautiful girl’. The best part of it though, was that Nikkei had gotten the wrong guy! The Minister had a cousin who looked just like him, and apparently they came to the brothel together sometimes; Nikkei had snagged the cousin, but the _actual_ Minister had gotten Sensei! So while _we_ were flailing around like chickens with our heads cut off, _he_ was getting all the info. Apparently he thought we were generating a smoke-screen so he could do the job uninterrupted, and well, we were hardly going to correct him, were we?”

Naruto was left laughing so hard he could barely breathe, slapping at the table as he tried to get his breath back. Ayame-nee had buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter as someone pushed aside the hangings to poke their head into the stall.

“Naruto? Ahh, I thought I heard your laugh, how are you doing? Oh, who’s your friend?”

A familiar ponytailed figure sat down at the counter with them. Naruto grinned broadly at the newcomer.

“Iruka-sensei! This is my new Sensei, Hiroki-nii!”

Naruto’s (oldest) favorite teacher looked surprised as he glanced over at Hiroki-nii. 

“Oh? That’s great Naruto!” -he turned towards the Jounin- “It’s nice to meet you Hiroki-san. I hope Naruto hasn’t been giving you any trouble?”

Naruto thought that the expression on the visible portion of his brother’s face looked a little teasing, and he had a sudden premonition of impending doom.

“Oh, no trouble at all, though I must admit I’m a little upset with him now; he never told me his Academy teacher was so good looking, and yet he talks about you all the time.”

Iruka-sensei blushed a little and chuckled good naturedly, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment, but Naruto could have _died_. Hiroki-nii was the _lamest_.

“Hah, well, I was just stopping to see what Naruto was up to; I should get these groceries back to my apartment.”

The Chunin hoisted a bag brimming with various ingredients, a large daikon radish poking out of the top. Hiroki-nii raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

“Oh my, what a large one you’ve got there. Will you need any help using all of that?”

Iruka-sensei’s ponytail bobbed as he nodded cheerfully. Naruto frowned, a sudden instinct making him suspicious that the danger was not yet passed.

“Oh, not to worry; I’ve gotten good at managing by myself.”

The Uchiha smiled a little wider.

“But that’s so lonely, particularly for such a _sizable_ delicacy; I generally don’t see something that big unless my girlfriend is looking to experiment a little. It’d be a shame to see such a fine specimen not get all the attention it deserves.”

Iruka cocked an eyebrow curiously, ponytail bobbing as he tilted his head.

“What did you have in mind?”

Hiroki-nii’s smile was downright predatory now, glinting sinisterly in the sun’s waning light.

“Well…”

The Jounin leaned in close to whisper in Iruka’s ear, taking longer than Naruto felt was really necessary, particularly seeing as how the flush on the Academy teacher’s face got deeper and deeper as time went on until the black haired teen leaned back into his seat.

“At least, that’s what _I_ would do with it.”

Iruka-sensei seemed to have broken, because after stammering out something which wasn’t quite a sentence he pulled a quick about face and stumbled out of the restaurant. Naruto glowered at his brother aggrievedly, taking a vicious bite out of his ramen.

“Why do you have to be so _weird_?”

His brother leaned back on the stool casually, smiling after the rapidly retreating Chunin as Ayame-nee fought back tears of mirth behind the counter.

“Because I love you.”

 

.           .           .

 

A/N: Hiroki has a dirty mind.

Fun fact: Part of the reason Wasabi like wordplay rather than jokes proper is because the lack of setup made Hiroki's reactions more genuine. If you started telling him a joke, he'd know it was supposed to be funny and laugh regardless. Puns and innuendo were more spontaneous and so if Hiroki laughed it was because he thought it was actually funny. 

 Sadly, a lot of the humor in the retelling of a story is lost without proper gestures and emphasis.

Anyway; just some slice of life stuff. You can't be miserable all the time, not really, but Saturation is told from Hiroki's PoV, and he focused on negatives. :(


	43. Definition 4.4

June 18, 13 AK

“Down!”

Naruto dropped immediately, a hand on Tazuna’s shoulder to pull the client down as well. A huge blade whistled through the fog over his head not a moment later, firmly embedding itself in a nearby tree. He suppressed a sigh of irritation as he straightened up. Not five minutes off the boat to Wave and already they were being hassled.

He blinked in faintly irritated skepticism at the figure standing on the hilt of the massive sword. Honestly, had he never heard of taste? Trying to look impressive was all well and good, but then this chump goes and spoils it with the high pants.

Blond hair tilted slightly to the side as he pulled himself back up, head cocked in silent rumination. Then again, Hiroki-nii dressed kind of weird too, maybe all high ranked shinobi just lost their fashion sense?

The Mist-nin sneered through his face covering bandages, visibly assessing the Genin and dismissing them just as easily, a gesture which lit a spark of defiance in Naruto’s gut which he carefully banked and stored away for later. The enemy’s expression shifted as he looked at Hiroki-sensei, however, becoming more interested at the glinting bracers and pitch-crimson mask.

“Well well, Hiroki the Pariah. They let someone like _you_ lead a Genin team? Leaf must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

His Sensei had been still, Sharingan eyes spinning slowly, but at the enemy’s words some of that stiffness bled away, replaced by a sort of hostile looseness. The expression made Naruto tense slightly, and prepare for a fight.

“You know, I’m really not a _fan_ of that name. But I suppose it would be rude not to complete the introductions. Children, say hello to Zabuza Momochi, A-rank Missing Nin, the Demon of the Hidden Mist, and their first Genin to _fail_ the final exam.”

Naruto grinned, showing teeth in an expression he didn’t quite feel through all the nerves. Despite that he made the gesture anyway, because appearances mattered and showing he was ready to soil his pants would be much worse for his survival prospects than faking a confident smile.

“Ne, ne, Sensei, what final exam? How’d he become a Genin then?”

Zabuza looked positively murderous but Hiroki-sensei spoke loudly to carry through the fog, a vicious smirk written in the twist of his mask.

“Well, as we all know, Konoha is The Best Village, but unfortunately the bar for that _particular_ distinction is rather low, considering our competition. You see, in Kiri they had a special exam; once you were through all the other tests, they’d pair the students up two-by-two... and have them fight to the death.”

He blinked, torn between disgust and confounded disbelief. His teammates apparently shared his feelings because Sakura spoke up, fans drooping from a guard position a hair as she expressed her skepticism with such a ridiculous practice.

“Seriously?”

“Yep!” Sensei sounded positively gleeful.

“That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard. And I’m on a team with Naruto.”

He hated to admit it, but Naruto totally agreed with Sasuke’s deadpan words. The first part anyway.

The ninja from the Village Hidden in the Retards growled angrily from his spot on the embedded sword, jabbing a thumb at his chest aggressively.

“But they ended that exam when a child, one who wasn’t even enrolled, slaughtered the entire graduating class! Me!”

That was certainly scary, but there was _no way_ he could pass up an opportunity that obvious.

“Wow, that is honestly even _worse_. Not only did they routinely throw away half their ninja, but the training wasn’t even good enough for the _entire class_ to beat a _single_ child?”

With a scream of rage, Zabuza tore his massive sword from the trunk of the tree and hurled himself at the Genin squad, only to be brought short when the slab of metal impacted on a dull grey plane of force extending from Sensei’s bracers.

The swordsman snarled, bearing down on the much smaller Konoha Jounin.

“I’ve got you in my Bingo Book, _Pariah_ ; Genjutsu and speed are all you’re good at, and neither will work on me. I’ll slice you in half and _butcher_ your Genin too.”

Sensei smiled, eyes drooping slightly as he shifted forward a bit, arm not even trembling from the strain of the contest of strength.

“Oh Zabuza, you should know better than to believe everything you read in books.”

The mask stretched as Hiroki-sensei opened his mouth and exhaled in the enemy’s face. The missing-nin recoiled in surprise as his flesh began to blister, before his head exploded into a cloud of boiling water.

Without pausing for a moment, the elder Uchiha spun in place, the silver barrier on his bracer reshaping itself into a thin spike which plunged into the chest of another Zabuza clone, who likewise dissolved into a spray of water. The very tip of the freakish broadsword barely nicked Sensei’s cheek as it disintegrated, sending a thin spray of blood over the Genin in their protective huddle.

Naruto had a bare instant of forewarning, hands plunging into the pocket of his hoodie almost in slow motion as a figure congealed out of the mist only inches in front of him, right in the middle of Team 7’s defensive triangle. The blade was already swinging when it was intercepted once again by his brother’s bracers, but it looked like Zabuza had accounted for that as well. In the moment of impact the Missing-nin shifted the position of his hands along the hilt of his blade, turning a horizontal slash into an uppercut which lifted Sensei off the ground and sent him skidding towards the nearby water.

The enemy was gone before Naruto even finished drawing his sickles, bursting from the water behind Hiroki-sensei with hands already locked in a seal.

“I’ve got you now!”

Sensei only stared impassively back as he was engulfed in a transparent sphere of water, even as a new water-clone rose from the river.

“Children, masks on! I’ll leave the water-clone to you; remember your mission.”

Every member of Team 7 immediately pulled out a rebreather and secured it with the aid of a little chakra. When your teacher liked to use poisons, you learned to heed warnings about air quality.

The copy of Zabuza rushed at their huddle, sword in a ready position to strike. The imitation wouldn’t be as strong as the original, but it was still likely to be a hard target to beat. Naruto flipped his hands into his favorite seal and immediately sent out a half dozen clones, all with wicked sharp kama already drawn and some ready to be thrown at a moment’s notice. The first three didn’t even see what hit them, and the fourth was kicked into the fifth and sixth so hard that the fifth dispelled outright, the last clone sent flying… as his sickle trailed behind him, pulled along its chain by his momentum, right towards the water-clone’s head.

Zabuza-clone saw the trailing chain and ducked forward, eyes widening in surprise as he was forced to abruptly shift his motion into a sideways roll to avoid the ascending edge of Sakura’s wickedly sharp fan. A roll which was cut brutally short as Sasuke’s plummeting form slammed a sword straight through his chest. The look on the clone’s face was absolutely priceless for the second before it dissolved into a puddle of water.

Sakura shifted her position into a more general ready stance with a little flourish of her fans, clearing away a bit of the lingering mist with a sweeping wave.

“Naruto, client secured?”

“State blue.”

The temporary team leader nodded her pink head at the code phrase, indicating Tazuna (smelly, stupid, lying, no-good, drunk) was hidden and out of the immediate danger area.

Their attention was drawn towards a soft sound from the water, Sensei smiling fondly at them even as he floated in the bubble of water. Something about the angles of Hiroki’s face looked a little odd, and thin dark lines were radiating out from the corners of his eyes almost like feathers.

“Such dutiful children. Well, I suppose it’s up to me now, ne Zabuza? Really though, you should have known better. Keeping a fire ninja so close? After all, seas _boil_ , and _everything_ burns.”

The hooded form in the Water Prison began to glow with a soft light as Sensei let his eyes drop closed for a moment of concentration.

“Sage Art: Aegis of Immolation.”

With an astonished widening of his eyes, Zabuza pulled his arm out of the bubble only moments before it violently exploded into a cloud of steam. Seconds later, even that haze seemed to fade away, burnt off by the intense heat radiating off of their Jounin Sensei, who stood, pose confident, upon the surface of the vigorously boiling water.

“Like I said, you shouldn’t believe in everything you read in books. Just because I don’t like Ninjutsu, doesn't mean I don’t know any.”

Sensei was now so bright it almost hurt to look directly at him, and with a soft ‘whumph’ pale flames started to lick across the surface of the river immediately around the Jounin’s sandaled feet.

“This is one of my personal inventions, and I must admit, not the most impressive technique, despite the difficulty I had perfecting it. All it does is raise your body temperature to about 2500 Celsius. Just hot enough that even water _burns_.”

A frustrated growl came from the former Mist-nin as his hands flickered through a long string of seals. A huge pillar of liquid rose from his side and rushed towards Sensei, taking the shape of a dragon as it sped headlong towards the searingly hot ninja, whose only response was a slight bracing of position.

The impact was as loud as an explosion, sending a wave of steam and water across the battlefield and obscuring the two Jounin from view. Naruto tensed in preparation for anything as the intensely warm and humid air blew across his face; he trusted his teacher, but anything could happen in a fight between powerful ninja and they might still need to fight a weakened Demon of the Mist if Sensei had been injured.

A figure came flying out of the cloud in the next second, falling with a painful thump on the other side of the road. He breathed a sigh of relief as he noted the bare chest. Zabuza.

The air near Team 7 blurred for a moment as Sensei exited a Body Flicker, skin still glowing a bright yellow-white, sending waves of heat out strong enough to give the Genin a sunburn. Good thing they were already wearing rebreathers; air that hot would cook their lungs.

The Missing-nin staggered to his feet, hefting his sword again but visibly wavering with large, angry-looking red marks splattered across his visible skin which were probably very painful. Team 7 tensed, preparing for a fight for their very lives-

Cut off quite suddenly when a trio of needles embedded themselves in Zabuza’s neck, causing him to twitch before slumping to the ground, dead before he hit the dirt. A youngish looking figure appeared a moment later, features concealed by a red and white porcelain mask covering their entire face.

“Thank you very much for your assistance; I have been looking for a chance to eliminate my target for some time now.”

Hiroki-sensei cocked his head assessing, a faint ticking sound coming from the ground nearby as the scorching heat began to cool.

“Please be sure to inform your master that I would like to talk when he gets better, Yuki-kun.”

The masked figure stiffened before hoisting up Zabuza’s body and disappearing in another flicker. Niisan’s head turned as if tracking something before he shifted his attention back to the Genin.

“Sakura, what did the Hunter-nin do wrong?”

Her fans closed with a click as she slid them away, shifting out of a defensive posture with a flick of her pretty pink hair.

“He should have processed the body immediately, not taken it away.”

Sensei smiled approvingly.

“Anything else? Sasuke?”

The other Uchiha was surveying their surroundings, sharingan glittering, hand stroking nervously on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

“He used senbon. They aren’t very good for killing strikes, they’re used mostly for poison delivery and hitting pressure points. The neck isn’t a good location for a lethal senbon hit either.”

“Just so.”

Hiroki-sensei glanced over to Naruto, still smiling slightly.

“Naruto, good work exfiltrating the client; you might want to get into the habit of having a few clones nearby all the time though. Your attack was effective” -Sensei looked over all of them to spread the praise- “but it might have been more effective if you had a few strikes coming in from ambush as well.”

Naruto grinned proudly, hands linking behind his head as a pair of clones appeared from the woods dragging a dripping Tazuna. Sensei nodded once more before wincing slightly, the little lines around his eyes fading away.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind, I think I’m going to collapse now.”

  
.           .           .

 

A/N: Wow, that certainly sounds a lot like what happened in canon doesn't it? 

 Naruto is a good actor, and the team works pretty well together.

 Yeah, Hiroki has sage mode. In this case, he needs it or else Aegis of Immolation becomes a flashy suicide technique. 

Each of the elements has certain properties, and Fire is a little more effective against its counter element than some others. In this case, heat/light/consumption beat cold/flow/absorb. But mostly because of the intensity.

 Fun Fact: No one has seen Hiroki cast a genjutsu since he was 14. Not even Kakashi.


	44. Definition 4.5

Naruto was a bit freaked out, but Hiroki-sensei was back to normal within a day; the jutsu put a big strain on his body but wasn’t very chakra intensive.

“I’m afraid I don’t know if you could learn a similar technique, though Sasuke and Sakura might. I don’t know what an infusion of Wind would look like, so I can’t really give you much advice.”

He wilted under the less than positive words, but Sensei tried to be consoling.

“That’s not to say you _couldn’t_ come up with something of course, all the best techniques are ones you invent yourself, but I don’t have any tips I’m afraid. A Lightning infusion would be, in essence, the Lightning Armor nin-taijutsu of the Raikage.”

Sensei glanced at Sasuke who was sitting nearby face placid as he carefully cleaned and sharpened his sword. The younger Uchiha nodded to show he had heard but didn’t stop, and Hiroki turned towards the team kunoichi.

“A Water infusion… what do you think Sakura?”

Naruto loved having such a smart teammate. While he had still been required to read a stupidly large number of books before Niisan finally declared him ‘adequate’, Sakura seemed to really enjoy that sort of thing and her knowledge on just about every topic nearly boggled his mind.

The pink kunoichi hummed thoughtfully as she oiled her fans.

“Well, Water nature is aligned with things like cold, and absorption, as well as the ability to flow around obstacles or adapt to change. Maybe… something like making your body really flexible and rubbery? So you could dodge better, and blunt impacts wouldn’t hurt as much? And it might make you really cold too…”

He could see what Sensei meant about not knowing what a Wind infusion would do. Wind was all about cutting, pushing, and grinding, wearing the enemy down or shredding them apart. He wasn’t sure what it would _do_ to fill your own body up with Wind. Maybe add a little oomph to your hits?

Naruto kept thinking about the problem as he finished cleaning his sickles and chains with a rag, letting them get sucked slowly back into the seal inside the pocket of his hoodie as he checked over every link for cracks or chips. Learning to maintain your weapons was the first thing they had been taught after getting them; like Sensei said, a broken tool was no good to anybody, whether it was your mind, your body, or a sharp bit of metal to stick in the other guy.

Job complete, he stood up and stretched, cracking his back as he unwound from the slightly cramped position inside the little room they had been given at Tazuna’s house. Sakura and Sasuke completed their work just a moment later and rose to similar ready positions. Sensei nodded approvingly before getting to his feet as well.

“Well, I don’t think we’ll need to worry too much about Zabuza in the near future, but this is still a good opportunity to practice your skills. Sakura, you’re team lead on this one. How should we go about ensuring the safety of the primary?”

Naruto watched as Sakura mulled over the problem, a little surprised as the kunoichi eventually pulled out a bit of paper and a pen to start writing.

“Well, Tazuna is working on his bridge, and we need to keep him safe. But Tsunami and Inari are also potential targets, they might get taken hostage. Tazuna is the primary, so the largest concentration needs to be on him. Zabuza probably won’t be a problem for about a week, but there is still that fake Hunter-nin to worry about, even if he didn’t seem as strong.”

His teammate tapped her chin lightly with the tip of her pen.

“If you’re fully recovered” -she glanced up at Sensei- “then you should guard Tazuna at the bridge. Naruto” -she pointed the pen at him- “can send out a few Clones to scout out the island and set up a perimeter around the house. If they see the Hunter, they can dispel. He should probably have at least a single Clone at the bridge too; preferably two or three so we can send messages back and forth quickly.”

She chewed on the end of her pen for a second as she thought a little more.

“Sasuke, me, and the real Naruto will take shifts watching the house, and maybe rotate to the bridge for a little while each day just in case. We’ll need to stretch the shifts across the full 24 hours, to make sure Gato doesn’t try to destroy the bridge while we’re sleeping.”

Sakura folded up the scrap of paper and handed it to Sasuke, who incinerated it with a burst of flame.

“Did I miss anything Sensei?”

Hiroki shook his head, smiling slightly as he relaxed against the pale wood of the wall.

“Not that I noticed, no. I’ll send out a few owls to scout as well.” -a flurry of hand-seals suited actions to words and brought forth a trio of small grey birds to fly out the window after a moment of whispered conversation- “You’ll all want to keep a close eye on your energy levels because even out here we need to keep your training up. At a much reduced level of course. It might be a good idea to make it two 4 hour shifts rather than one 8 hour shift, but I’ll leave that to all of you to figure out. Well, if we’re all ready, let’s head down to breakfast. Naruto, what did Tsunami make for us?”

The blond paused, scenting the air for a moment with the senses he had learned to enhance over the past few weeks.

“Rice, and… some sort of fish stew. Not sardines, not fishy enough, probably mackerel, or white fish, I saw a few boats on the way in and they weren’t the big sort you’d need for getting a deep-sea dwelling fish like tuna. I think the stew has pepper in it, sorry Sasuke.”

The younger Uchiha simply grunted in acknowledgment as they trooped down to the kitchen.

 

.           .           .

 

Naruto stared after the crying boy who had run up the stairs. It was a sad story, to be sure, but…

_You should never take the words of people who have been hurt at face value._

...but there was always another side to a story. Gato _sounded_ mean, from the people who had suffered under the magnate’s rule.

“Ne, Sensei, is Gato the bad guy?”

Hiroki cocked his head to the side, staring back at him unreadably for a second before glancing out the window to track the tops of the waves rolling across the bright blue water of Wave’s coast.

“Right now, yes. Definitely. Tazuna hired us to protect him, Gato is trying to kill him, Gato is the enemy. In general?”

The hooded ninja shrugged loosely, meeting the orange boy’s gaze again.

“Everyone is the hero of their own story. No one thinks themselves the villain. Gato probably doesn’t actually enjoy watching people suffer; at worst he probably enjoys the feeling of power over others but there are very few people who don’t. The fact that the people of Wave are unhappy with what he is trying to do is a side-effect, not the intention. Gato wants money. Complete control over Wave will get him lots of money. If people are hurt in the process, well; he doesn’t know any of them _personally_ , so why should he care?”

Naruto let his head slump to the table and glowered at the wall while Sakura frowned slightly, tucking a strand of green hair behind her ear to get it out of the way. He frowned at that and pumped a mote of chakra through his coils; Sakura’s tea-green hair and few random blood spots on her shirt faded away to reveal her normal pink strands and an unstained but travel worn red shirt.

“But people _are_ getting hurt, and he knows that. If he keeps doing things that hurt people, doesn’t that make him evil?”

“Never attribute malice to that which is equally explainable by stupidity or negligence.”

Blue eyes flicked up to look at his raven haired teammate who was sitting in a calm position, apparently unaffected by the roiling emotions of his teammates. Hiroki-sensei nodded in agreement, shadows shifting across his face with the motion.

“There is an old riddle: What is deadlier than hate, and flows without limit? I suggest you all meditate on it if you have some time. However, there is something you might not have considered.”

Their teacher stood, patting his pants free of imaginary dust and stretching luxuriously, long arc of his body silhouetted against the bright morning sun reflecting off the sea outside the house before he relaxed and addressed Team 7 seriously.

“We are shinobi. We are, in a certain sense, purer. Other men kill for power, for lust, for hate, for their country. We kill for money, to support our village. Some, like the Samurai, consider us less for such things, but we do, in our own way, possess honor. We do not judge our clients, and we do not judge our targets. We simply ask to be paid. Good and Evil don’t enter into it. If things had turned out different, if Gato had done the smart thing and hired Konoha to do his dirty work rather than Missing-nin… Tazuna would be dead, and Wave would be crushed. And it would be no more, or less, our fault than his current protection. All are equal before the knife.”

With those words the group split up, heading towards their respective jobs. Naruto had first watch on the house, and if Gato sent any thugs…

He clenched his fist around the hilt of his sickles where they extended into the pocket on his stomach, ignoring the slight tremor in his fingers and nervous twisting in his gut as he brushed past the pale Tsunami on his way out the door.

He was a shinobi. He did not judge. He just did what he was paid for.

 

.           .           .

 

A/N: Each element can be categorized with a few descriptors about what it does and what it is for.

Water: the cold of the deep sea, a pebble falling into a pond and disappearing without a ripple, a river flowing around the stones in it's path.

Fire: the bright flame of a candle in the dark, the heat of a hearth in winter, a wild fire which consumes even ash

Wind: the gale which crushes the tree down, the breeze which cuts with its quickness, the endless gulf stream which grinds the mountain to dust

Lightning: the twitch of muscles firing, the lightning bolt which flies unerringly towards its target through anything in its way, the static attraction of a storm clinging to your skin

Earth: the solid dam which holds back the river, the crushing weight of a meteor, the pillar around which the fires flow which repels their consuming flames


	45. Definition 4.6

Team 7 lay dead and scattered across the bridge. The Genin were veritable pincushions, bristling with glittering white senbon. Their teacher was pinned by the long blade of Kubikiri Houcho, the sword almost as wide as the young Jounin’s chest.

Zabuza Momochi stood, leaning on the sword, bleeding heavily from a few cuts on his torso and breathing hard as Gato strolled onto the bridge.

“Well, I suppose you finally earned your keep. Too bad I don’t pay weaklings.”

The Missing-nin scowled, growling through his bandages at the stumpy form of his employer.

“So you’ve betrayed me? You were never going to pay me!”

Gato sneered, lip curling disdainfully.

“Only an idiot would pay so much for so little.”

“Okay, I think that’s enough.”

The little bodies on the bridge dissolved into the thick mist, the Jounin following suit a moment later, reappearing a little behind Zabuza’s shoulder, whose injuries likewise disappeared. The former Kiri-nin glowered unhappily as the Leaf ninja spoke in an even and unimpressed tone.

“I did tell you. Never underestimate a greedy individual’s capacity for self-harm.”

“What?! You didn’t kill them? I knew you were worthless!”

Hiroki-sensei gestured towards the stupid, ranting businessman invitingly.

“I believe you were going to _express your displeasure_? Hmm?”

Naruto watched from his position in a protective bubble around Tazuna alongside his team as Zabuza hefted his massive sword and with a blurring motion disappeared into the crowd of thugs around Gato. The huge blade swung once, cleaving Gato’s head from his shoulders in a single movement, earning a polite golf-clap from Hiroki.

“Well, that makes our job much easier, thank you. Now for the rest of the rabble.”

Sensei gazed at the collection of nervous and angry thugs for a second, before his gaze flickered back to Team 7. Naruto wasn’t sure why, until the Jounin raised a politely expectant eyebrow.

Naruto gulped, and shifted on his feet, hands tensing as he gripped his sickles tighter. He could almost hear Sensei’s words in his head, but…

“Sensei, are they bad people?”

Hiroki merely shook his head.

“They are just people Naruto.”

The older nin sighed heavily, a tired sound as they looked at each other across the grey expanse of concrete.

“Naruto, I believe, that if you tried, you could change them. With your clones, and your light, and your dedication, if you wanted to, you could make them better. You could turn them from darkness to light, from violent thugs to productive members of the community. I believe, that it is possible, that you, by the strength of your own hands and will, could change the world without shedding a single drop of blood.”

His hands clenched tighter around the wrapped metal of his weapons as he stared resignedly down at the surface of the bridge. He could hear what Sensei _hadn’t_ said too. He _could_. It was _possible_.

But not likely. There was a cost to everything, a price that must be paid; he _could_ save these men, change their fate, heal whatever wound of the heart pushed them to this life of banditry. But if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to do other things.

Gato’s thugs might be redeemable, but the same could be said for others, and the effort he spent on these men he wouldn’t be able to spend on those others, stronger enemies maybe, people with more capacity for good… or for harm.

His teeth caught on his lower lip as he tried to push himself, to- to make his body move, to make sure these cruel people who had hurt others and would likely do so again couldn’t, but…

Sensei sighed gently.

“It’s alright, Naruto. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

A faint, sort of plinking melody filled the air as his teacher began to sway a little from side to side… before he _moved_. [Rude Boy - Zed’s Dead]

It was beautiful, in a rather horrible way, like a pendulum swinging or watching the smooth turning of gears in some machine. Sensei’s bracers gleamed, as did the blades extruding from them as they swept in arcs and dips through the mass of thugs, disappearing every few seconds to abruptly shift from one point to another as the speed briefly accelerated too fast to follow. Every movement was just so, every step moving the masked ninja deeper into the group which had begun to panic in slow motion ripple as their numbers rapidly dwindled. Hiroki didn’t look gleeful, or hateful or, anything really, but his face was still disturbing for it bore a look of… contentment maybe? Relaxation. An actor who knew his role to perfection and played it flawlessly.

It was like a dance, almost, though the almost music was harsh and grating and jerked like the twitching limbs of a marionette, it was… beautiful. It was also very, very _red_.

Naruto didn’t have time to be distracted though, for Sensei couldn’t be everywhere at once, and a small clump of Gato’s thugs had decided to cut their losses and run. Unfortunately, that meant they had to pass through Team 7’s position.

His hands tensed around the handles of his sickles, but something was holding him back. He didn’t want to hurt these bandits, despite… everything. Everyone had something to live for, something to offer, but-

There was a cruel, hateful look in the eye of the closest bandit, and the thug swung his polearm at Sakura to try and clear the way. His teammate hopped back quickly, but she must have been as surprised as he was, for her response was a little slow.

The edge of the rusty blade just nicked her arm, barely a scratch, drawing only a thin line of red-

He did not like that.

A flicker of memory, the pretty, feminine boy he had met while patrolling the village-

_-when a person has something to protect; that is when we become truly strong-_

There was a hot, churning feeling in his gut, a burning, almost acid _intention_ , and the thug’s glaive was stopped abruptly by his crossed kama, catching the haft below the blade in a scissor lock. With a burst of strength, the length of wood was sheared apart sending splinters flying and knocking the bandit back.

He pushed forward, doubts and worries shoved aside, tucked away in a little box where it couldn’t bother him, couldn’t slow him down, because the Team was everything, and _nothing_ would take them away.

Naruto could feel his breathing deepen, a thread of raging panic welling in his mind as he batted aside the feeble defence of his target. They might not be bad people, but they were doing bad things, and they were _threatening people he cared about_.

The slightly serrated blade of his sickle buried itself in the gut of the man who had injured Sakura, the chain slipping from the boy’s fingers as he swept past towards the next target. That’s all they were. They were [targets]. He was a shinobi. He would defend his client. He would protect his Team.

His fingers tightened on the links of metal sliding across his palm and he pulled hard. The blade whipped forward trailing bits of- He twitched and the sickle swung overhead to slash across the chest of another [target] before he pulled it behind him, the length of chain sweeping along in a wide arc, his team reacting perfectly, Sasuke twisting over the distraction, sword darting out to puncture flesh like a soft balloon, and Sakura sliding underneath, her fans sweeping out to neatly sever the tendons of the [target] on Naruto’s other side, the motion turning into a graceful spin to take out the groin, liver, and throat of the stumbling [target] as the blond’s weapon slid neatly back into his hand.

He did not think for several more moments, the span of seconds dragging out as he simply _moved_ , his team at his side like a single unit, an impulse throbbing in his head like an unceasing drumbeat - _defendtheclientfindnexttargetprotectteammovestrikemovekeepprecioussafe_ \- Dull grey chains gleamed in the wet fog lingering in the air, every broad swing making openings for Sakura to thrust and deflect, herding and harrying the [targets] and leading them right towards Sasuke’s blade, carving silver crescents into the volume of their authority. They were in control. They did their duty. They protected each other. They kept the client safe.

Naruto came back to himself slowly, hands rock steady as they held his sickles in a ready position as the last [target] fell with a faint gurgle. He felt like he should be shaking, or like he wanted to throw up, or fall to his knees and never stop crying. He didn’t though. He was _safe_ , his team was _safe_ , the client was _safe_. The bridge was still, and only Tazuna, Team 7, and their Jounin were left standing.

A figure emerged from the shifting fog as a breeze blew through, Zabuza perched on the railing and staring with a sort of hungry fascination at Sensei as the other Jounin swayed slightly to the fading strains of the song, faint drips coming from arms bloody to the elbow. The Missing-nin gave the Genin a sort of assessing glance for a moment, and Naruto almost wished Zabuza would say something, show an indication that he was an enemy too, because this was **all his fault** and…

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pulling himself back even as his hands trembled and the Mist-nin turned back to their Sensei.

“And that is why they call you the Muse, isn’t it?”

Naruto frowned at the tone, dislike for the Missing-nin warring with the urge to be sick at the goopy mess covering the stretch of bridge. Hiroki still looked lost, absent, mind wandering far afield as he stared at Team 7 through his crimson soaked fingers.

“Everyone deserves to be beautiful, Zabuza. Even if only for a moment. Even if only once.”

The other Jounin snorted, a small, cynical sound made lound by the echoing fog, before turning and disappearing once more. Naruto caught a glimpse of the boy, Haku, who gave him a small wave of farewell. His hand mirrored the action, dimly surprised, but Zabuza’s Apprentice was already gone, vanished into the mist after his Master.

He shivered and hugged himself tight, perpetual cheer dampened by the cold and the death and the strange and unfamiliar sea air. It was time to go home.

.           .           .

 

July 25, 13 AK

 

After a month, even home can start to get stifling. Since the completion of their first C-rank (turned A-rank), nissan had requested fewer D-ranks for them. Now they only went on 2 a week, rather than 6. The extra time was dumped into… more training.

Hiroki kept his word of course, and each member of Team 7 learned a new jutsu aligned with their elemental affinity. Sasuke had complained about learning a Lightning jutsu at first (admittedly that invisible flame breath thing Sensei had used against the water clone was pretty cool), but the raven’s grumbles eventually subsided in the face of practicality.

“You already know the Grand Fireball. Ghostfire is not really a step up. Besides which, it would not synergize with Great Breakthrough.”

Naruto preened slightly as his brother sent him an approving look. It had taken him 4 days to get the jutsu down, but with the amount of chakra he could dump into it he could topple trees with ease, and if Sasuke blew a Fireball into it as well they could probably burn down Konoha.

“But, Sensei, wouldn’t it be good with my Water Bullets?”

He blinked at Sakura and had to suppress a small flush yet again. She had updated her outfit a little, her dress was shorter over her shorts and came with detached sleeves. It was… really cute, actually, and he had been noticing that sort of thing more in the last few weeks for some reason. Naruto noted that Sasuke’s new masky-scarf thing was kind of nice too, making him look sort of suavely handsome and mysterious and… uh… that was weird.

Their Jounin-sensei hummed agreeably.

“It would… but not as well as the Water Bullet goes with the Lightning Rod.”

The blond grumbled a little and scuffed the ground. The jutsu Sasuke _had_ learned was admittedly pretty awesome, not that he was jealous or anything! Great Breakthrough was _way_ cooler, and he was already learning how to channel a bit of Wind Chakra into his sickles so they could cut through _anything_. It was kind of scary, actually, because the style he was learning for their use was very… swingy… so he had to be even more careful with them. A single glance could slice off someone's arm easily, and Hiroki-nii wouldn’t always be there to put them back together.

Well, fortunately he had Shadow Clones to practice with, so he would probably be more than ready come the Chunin Exams. And maybe he’d see Hinata there...

His wandering attention was brought back to the present abruptly as Sensei clapped his hands.

“Well, you’ve all shown admirable progress over the past few weeks, so… I think we’re ready for another C-rank, don’t you? An _actual_ C-rank, this time, I mean. I’ve been vetting the incoming missions personally, and I think I found one which shouldn’t take too long, or be too much of a bother. Simple courier job, taking a scroll from the Capital to a mining town in Stone Country. What do you say?”

Team 7 exchanged a long look, considering the proposal. Wave had been… well, it had been a disaster, honestly. Helping out those people had been great, but there was a real chance of death the entire time. That was true of all ninja work, of course, but Konoha worked hard to ensure that its ninja were given the best chance possible at success, and Genin paired up against Jounin level Missing-nin was definitely not part of standard operating procedure. But it wasn’t like they could just sit inside the village forever either.

As one they turned back towards the waiting Jounin.

“We accept.”

.           .           .

 

A/N: Naruto killed some people. This is a funny topic, because he saves the world with his belief in the intrinsic goodness of others and so on, and in canon he never _actually_ kills anyone. Seriously, it's a little ridiculous, but even Kakuzu is technically just beaten  _near_ death by Naruto, then chidoried by Kakashi. But it was pointed out to me that all of the times Naruto's opponents died without him having killed them, he was actually ready to kill them. He wouldn't have liked it, he would work to avoid it, but if Nagato had just been like 'go suck my atrophied dick' rather than ressing everyone,then our plucky blond protagonist would have been willing to rip his head off.

Some authors treat it like he can't possibly kill people and still be a good person, like he's some perfectly naive and virginal snowflake, but that isn't the real Naruto.

Fight music: Rude Boy by Zeds Dead

Edit: Oh! I almost forgot; someone mentioned Zabuza taking the fight to casually, because his Bingo Book should list Hiroki as S-rank. So, couple things about that, first; it is sort of implied in canon originally that Bingo Books were sort of like a ninja's personal notebooks about other ninja. Eventually that was expanded in fanon into 'every bounty hunter has a bingo book' and eventually 'there are publicly available bingo books that list everybody's stats'.

 

In this case: The Bingo Book listing Hiroki as S-rank was published by Kumo. It is debatable who has access to it  in other countries beyond the higher ups that receive reports from agents in the field. It is also up in the air how much stock Country A puts in Country B's rankings of ninja. Additionally, Zabuza thought he was good enough to take out an S-rank Mizukage, so even if his book is up to date he might consider himself to be bordering S-rank anyway. And, finally, Zabuza has been out of the game for... like at least a year or so, right? So there is a very good chance his Bingo Book is simply out of date.


	46. Definition 4.7

Naruto was left grumbling as they leapt through the branches outbound from Konoha. Sasuke had won the coin toss to see who would be team lead, meaning he would be stuck with leading last out of all Team 7. He rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath as he swung under a branch, deliberately bringing his mood back to level. There were upsides and downsides to everything; being last meant getting the chance to see everyone else’s mistakes before having to try himself. 

“Ne, Sensei, how big is the Capital? It’s bigger than Konoha, right?” 

The answer drifted back on the wind from the nearly invisible Jounin drifting ahead of him through the dappled shadows. 

“The Capital is _significantly_ larger than Konoha. We have a population of about 15,000 while the Capital houses a permanent population in excess of 700,000.” 

He almost missed the next jump, nearly staggered by the number. 

“That’s… so many people! How do they- what- why- how do they all _fit_?!” 

There was a smile audible in the tone of Hiroki’s voice as the team bounced across the surface of a stream for a few miles, tiny flecks of light glittering off the greenish-blue surface as they passed with nary a ripple. 

“Konoha is a ninja village. We are always going to be small. They don’t call them ‘Hidden Villages’ for nothing, you know? But more, ninja are very rare, in an absolute sense. The Land of Fire has a population of nearly twenty million; most of those people will never see a real ninja.” 

Naruto saw Sasuke frown slightly at Sensei’s words, and he felt a measure of shared confusion at that observation as well. 

“But we fought wars.” 

Sakura shook her head, carefully bound hair streaming behind her like liquid cherry blossoms as she answered the unspoken question. 

“Ninja were a critical part of all three world wars, but not because of numbers. The Country which established ninja superiority would be guaranteed victory, but actually holding territory and pacifying the populace was the job of civilian militias and Samurai.” 

Hiroki nodded approvingly, briefly floating upside down as he looked back at the Genin between jumps. 

“As Sakura says. Shinobi are a key part of National Security, and a major strategic asset for the Land of Fire, but there are very few of us. Our skills are best employed in small battles, surgical strikes, and subterfuge; even the Hokage would eventually fall if forced to fight endless waves of armed civilians stiffened by Samurai.” 

That was a completely novel though for Naruto, and he spent a long minute pondering over it while they traveled. 

Konoha was all about ninja. The ninja of Konoha were the entire _point_ of Konoha. There were probably barely a thousand genuine civilians in the village; most of the non-ninja were still from ninja clans and would be involved at least peripherally with breeding more clan ninja or otherwise supporting the clan’s strength. But the world was huge; twenty million was a number he could barely wrap his head around, and that was in Fire Country alone. They might be the most populous nation, but that didn’t mean no one lived anywhere else. 

His dream was still to be Hokage, and it wasn’t as if that goal no longer mattered, but it _was_ an odd shift in perspective. Konoha was his home, and he wanted to be recognized by her people for his strength and determination but… in the grand scheme of things, that wasn’t that _big_. He’d be one of the top ten most powerful individuals in the world, but practically speaking he’d only be in charge of around 15,000 people, where the Daimyo ruled practically the _square_ of that number. 

His chuckles attracted a brief moment of interest from Sakura, and he smiled somewhat bemusedly at her inquiring eyebrow. 

“I’m going to be Hokage, and that’s; well, something hardly anyone will ever see.” 

He shrugged and gave her another wry smile as he rebounded off the next tree. 

“It’s just a funny thought, you know? The world is a big place.” 

 ** _Humans have always been self-centered. Your lack of perspective is what caused those wars in the first place._**  

He rolled his eyes at the Kyuubi’s sullen grumbling but he couldn’t say the words were untrue, merely deliberately provocative. A bit of smile lingered around the edge of his mouth at the expert use of his broadening vocabulary while he shot back a mental reply. 

 _We can do better Kyu-ji. You know it, I know it, and together we’ll make it so._  

 ** _Pretty words._**  

The presence in the back of his head receded and he was left pretty sure Otsutsuki-ojisama was unconvinced.  

Well, someday. 

To his surprise, Sasuke actually voiced a question. 

“Even if there aren’t as many ninja, we still have enough to maintain a presence over a large area. Endless civilians might bring down a Kage, but they’d have to gather first. Even a single Genin team should be able to hold a modest sized city; why bother with the Daimyo?” 

Sensei hummed musingly, head cocked and hood ruffling in the wind. 

“Well, I suppose because it would be a bother, and unlikely to work. During the Warring Clans Era there were occasional partnerships, some which even lasted a long time like the alliance between the Akimichi, Nara, and Yamanaka. Some of those alliances tried to hold and maintain territory, but the civilians didn’t respect their authority, so eventually all the farms they controlled were either abandoned or depopulated. Ninja still need to eat, and you can’t eat gold.” 

The air whistled past them, the heat and humidity dampened by the trees and shade to make it tolerable when combined with the speed of their passage. 

“There is a very important difference between ‘power’ and ‘authority’ and while shinobi hold quite a bit of the former we don’t have very much of the latter. So the Daimyo exists to control the civilians, who grow the food to feed the ninja, who ensure the Daimyo stays in control.” 

Naruto chewed on his cheek thoughtfully, considering Sensei’s words. He frowned a tad in confusion as he bounced off the rough bark of the next tree. 

“Does the Hokage decide who gets to be Daimyo then?” 

“Not precisely. It is something of a balancing act. The Daimyo is the largest single purchaser of Missions from Konoha; he makes up almost 60% of all of our revenue with missions to patrol the borders and maintain order inside the Land of Fire and so on. So it is in the Hokage’s best interest to avoid making him angry, or he might stop giving us as much money. This is actually a large problem for Suna at the moment; the Kazekage and Wind Daimyo are on the outs. However, the Daimyo knows that, in principle, the Hokage could have him assassinated. It would be tricky, to be sure, since he has ninja guardians loyal to him personally, but it would be doable. So it is in his best interests to keep giving us money so we have no reason to quarrel with him.” 

His frown of confusion deepened slightly, which Sakura noticed and tried to alleviate with a bit more explanation. 

“The Daimyo doesn’t choose the Hokage, and the Hokage doesn’t choose the Daimyo, but both of their opinions matter to the other. The Village wouldn’t support a Hokage the Daimyo wouldn’t deal with, and the Hokage wouldn’t protect a Daimyo who lost the Village lots of money.” 

The blond’s mouth formed a silent o of comprehension. 

“I get it! So, it’s like, ‘I scratch your back, you scratch mine’? We both be nice and everybody wins?” 

The Jounin at the head of the formation nodded approvingly. 

“Just so.” 

The younger Uchiha grunted in acknowledgment but didn’t seem quite satisfied. 

“Why doesn’t the Hokage simply puppet the Daimyo? Then we wouldn’t have to worry about keeping him happy.” 

“That isn’t really the point of a ninja village Sasuke. Konoha was founded to bring an end to the Warring Clans Era, not to run a country, and not to make ninja fabulously wealthy. We _could_ do that, but why bother if our current arrangement works so well? And, of course, there would be the matter of maintaining that control despite Samurai trained in chakra techniques and ninja who might be loyal to the Daimyo before the Hokage.” 

Hiroki paused for a moment before nodding his head in a grudging sort of way. 

“Too, some believe that the Daimyo was chosen by the gods to rule. And he has more practice.” 

Naruto sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath. 

“Who needs the hassle of ruling the world?”

 

.           .           .

 A/N: So, off we go on our second C-rank. Fun times will be had by all! 

Kyu-ji is an affectionate and highly informal mode of address, and Naruto probably wouldn't be so flippant while in Kurama's presence. Ojisan means uncle, or more generally 'old man' (approximately equivalent to 'mister' in english but with definite connotations of age), and in a case like this the 'san' would be dropped. Kyu-ji thus means simply 'Uncle Nine'.

 Konoha is a military dictatorship. Not of the entirety of the Land of Fire though, obviously. The Hokage rules the Village and the Village is a commercial entity which is primarily employed by the State. But the Hokage is not part of the Land of Fire's line of succession or hierarchy; she is not the Daimyo's subordinate as he is not hers. The Daimyo did not build the ninja villages to be his army, the ninja villages are not truly dependent on his sufferance for their existence, and the ninja villages are not solely employed by their home countries.


	47. Definition 4.8

It had gone too smoothly, in retrospect. It wouldn’t be a Team 7 mission without _something_ going wrong. The pickup had gone according to plan, a quick talk with the client, some iron merchant looking to secure a contract for a steady ore delivery. The handoff had been flawless, even if the mine owner was a grumpy old guy he’d signed off on the receipt scroll readily enough. 

To be perfectly fair, at that point the mission had been complete. They just had to get back to Konoha and report completion to get their pay. But sometimes life just throws curveballs. 

“...so after the First War it was thought that the buffer region between Wind and Earth should be expanded. Stone was already home to a collection of small allied ninja clans at the time and was thus given formal recognition as a Minor Village and the country was born.” 

Naruto nodded along to Sakura’s lecture on the difference between Iwa and Ishi and the Tsuchikage and the Ishikage. He would have thought it would have made more sense to just give the Land of Stone a less confusing name like... the Land of Metal. There. That would be easy enough. There weren’t any Villages Hidden in the Metal. Although, both Wind and Earth were heavy exporters of metals and ores too, so- 

“Oh.” 

Team 7 froze at their Sensei’s sound of dismayed surprise. The Jounin was staring off into the dense green shadows of the trees a little ways out from the road with a faint expression of disgruntlement and irritation. 

“Bubble. Now.” 

Naruto’s eyes widened in astonishment before he immediately pulled out a sealing tag and slapped it on the ground. His teammates were at his side in a second, just as he pushed a massive ammount of chakra into the small piece of paper. A thick blue barrier sprang up in a modest sized dome over the Genin, leaving Hiroki outside. Less than a full second later, a tall figure in heavy red armor landed on the road in front of them with a small puff of steam and a heavy thud. 

He glanced between his brother and the newcomer, trying to figure out what was going on, but Sakura’s startled gasp told him enough to know that whoever this was was bad news, even if the somewhat stiff words of his brother weren’t enough. 

“Han. Of Iwa. What a surprise to see you here.” 

He blinked, assessing the figure in red. Han was the Gobi jinchuuriki; Naruto had never met another bijuu container before. The Iwa jinchuuriki certainly looked pretty impressive, being taller than average and quite bulky with the thick metal armor. 

The Iwa-nin looked steadily back at them, eyeing the barrier silently for a moment before turning back towards Hiroki.

 “I don’t suppose I could persuade you to forget you saw me?” 

Nissan’s posture shifted slightly, and when he spoke it was with a slow, cautious tone. 

“I am afraid that your presence here is a violation of the Atsusa accords; no Iwa jinchuuriki are allowed outside of the nation’s borders without an escort.” 

Han sighed, rubbing his head under the brim of his wide straw hat. 

The movement was too fast to follow, a grievous failing found in far too much higher level combat as far as Naruto was concerned. Sensei was just… not where he was anymore. Instead there was a long trench of disturbed dirt which terminated in a bent and twisted body, still wearing a dark grey hood. 

That… what? 

He couldn’t understand what he was seeing. It was a genjutsu, right? Sensei had done this before, put them in genjutsu where something crazy happened and they had to think on their feet. This was all just an illusion, a training exercise; he would pulse his chakra and Hiroki-nii would be fine, and the team would be safe, and they’d go home together and- EVERYTHING WOULD BE FINE. 

The figure clad in steaming metal armor sighed again, a higher pitched sound like the whistle of a tea pot ringing out at the same time while he turned towards the stunned Genin team. His heavy metal boots made a crunching noise as he walked towards them, expression mildly regretful. 

Naruto wanted to rip that look off Han’s face and feed it to him, and he could feel the irrational urge to _fight_ building in his gut, warring with the instinct that told him to _run, run, run_ , **crush the bug who stole from us**. 

“Sorry about your Sensei. He’d have told someone, and then Iwa would have  sent someone to look for me and stuck me back in the village and I’d never get away again. It’s not personal, you know? Now, could you lower the barrier already? It’ll be a lot quicker if you-” 

"Earth Style: Pebble of the Divine Garden."

 

Han was slammed against the barrier by a spinning ball of stone, sending a jolt through Naruto’s chakra at the strain as the energy construct rang like a gong with the force of the impact. Sensei was there a second later, hand wrapped around the enemy’s face and shoving it into the barrier even as the larger ninja wheezed through his cracked armor.

 

“That, was my  _mother’s_ eye.”

 

Hiroki who appeared entirely unharmed save for one closed eye which was dripping blood at a slow rate. Naruto’s hands trembled with relief, the sudden rush of homicidal rage diffusing in the wake of assurance that his family was safe. Little black lines grew around Sensei’s eyes but he kept talking in an incongruously calm tone, even as his bandaged hand pressed Han's face harder into the barrier.

 

“She  _made_ me that eye, with her own  _skull_. And you  _ruined_ it. Now I only have one piece of her left before she’s gone forever.”

 

Hiroki-nii did not get angry. He didn’t yell, or shout. Hiroki-nii would never hurt them.

 

Naruto had to keep repeating his little mantra, because for some reason, despite how even his teacher’s voice was, he wasn’t quite sure if he believed it. Any lingering embers of hate were snuffed out like a bucket of water had been dumped on his head.

 

“But that- that I could forgive. Then you threatened  _my Genin_.”

 

The sole remaining Sharingan eye was spinning madly as it shifted into something new, made of spines and curves and cruel looking points. The eye focused on Han for a long second, as the hand clenched tighter to squeeze a pained squeak from the enemy ninja, before glancing briefly at Naruto. It was like someone had dropped a weight into the pit of his stomach, a sudden pulling before-

Where was this? He was in an empty white plane, stretching out in all directions, completely featureless. 

Well, not totally empty. As he spun around again in confusion he spotted his brother sitting in a seiza, hands raised so the palms covered his eyes. The Jounin shifted his posture slightly, tilting his head to indicate the floor nearby. 

“Please, sit Naruto. They should be here in a moment.” 

The blond dropped into a comfortable cross legged position, looking around for whoever they were expecting in the infinite, empty void. 

“Who should be here soon?” 

“ **Me.** ” 

He jolted in his position, springing up and exclaiming in surprise at the massive figure of the Kyuubi, sitting behind him with tails wrapped around its massive paws. 

“Kyuubi! … sama. What are you… doing here?” 

He was trying to be polite like Niisan had taught him to, but it was a struggle against a lifetime of habit and frank astonishment at seeing the fox in such an open environment, and without the safety of a seal between them. 

The giant fox-like chakra entity growled low, eyes narrowing as they glanced at the kneeling form of Hiroki. 

“ **Uchiha! Why have you brought me here?!** ” 

“ **I imagine for somewhat the same reason he brought _me_ here.**” 

Naruto and his tenant both blinked in surprise at the new voice, which was quite deep, but had an undercurrent of slight hissing that made it much more sibilant than Kyuubi’s. Hiroki-nii gave a sort of half bow from his seiza. 

“Indeed Otsutsuki-ojisama. I was hoping to use Kyuubi-sama as a character witness.” 

The Gobi was large, maybe even a touch larger than Kyuubi, though his form was more streamlined. His coat was a pale grey color, set off nicely by the pale red tips of his horns. He was definitely weirder looking than the Kyuubi though; Naruto wasn’t sure what exactly the other bijuu was supposed to be. Some kind of elk, or, a horse? 

The Gobi looked around calmly, inspecting the space they resided in. 

“ **It has been a very long time since I was last here. How are you faring Kur-** ” 

The Kyuubi roared, cutting off his brother’s words. 

“ **Do not say my name in front of the humans! Unlike _you_ I still have some pride left.**” 

The Gobi sniffed, nose tilting up disparagingly. 

“ **And yet you are bound as I am, are you not? Or is that not your container, as this is mine?** ” 

The massive (dolphin?)horse flipped his head at Naruto before nodding towards the still form of Han crumpled near his hooves. The blond hadn’t noticed the man there before, and it seemed for good reason as the armor clad ninja was quite still and staring vacantly upward, the only sign of life remaining the slight rise and fall of his breastplate. Sensei cleared his throat politely, drawing their attention back. 

“If I might, that was rather what I had hoped to discuss with you, Otsutsuki-ojisama. But first, might I have the privilege of addressing you by your given name? I fear this conversation may become somewhat unwieldy otherwise, as I would be most reluctant to call either of your esteemed personages by such a crude mode as the number of your magnificent tails.” 

Naruto had to take a second to process the formal language, but it seemed Gobi had less trouble.  

The bijuu nodded after a moment, apparently pleased by the polite speech. 

“ **You may; thank you for asking. Might I have your name in return?** ” 

Naruto dropped back into a squat between Kyuubi’s paws and yawned as Sensei bowed slightly back. Adrenalin crash, nasty things. 

“Of course, how remiss of me. My name is Uchiha Hiroki. It is my very good honor to make your acquaintance Kokuo-ojisama.” 

Kyuubi emitted a sound somewhere between a despairing sigh and a grunt of disgust before flopping forward, massive foxy head almost landing on Naruto before he dodged to the side, looking back at the bijuu aggrievedly. Kokuo seemed content to ignore the slight commotion, dropping down into a more relaxed posture as well. 

“ **It is very nice to meet you as well, Hiroki-san. Now, you did mention that your reason for bringing us here was related to our current state of… liberty?** ” 

“Indeed. I wished to address the issue to you, as it most primarily concerns your own condition. I am not certain of the specifics of the containment method which binds you to Han, but I am afraid your current residence is soon to become… not. He threatened my Genin team.” 

The last was said somewhat apologetically, and Naruto shifted a bit, getting comfortable leaning against Kyuubi’s fuzzy paw. If only Kyu-ji wasn’t such a dick; this was really comfortable. Kokuo nodded acknowledgingly, before tilting his head in inquiry. 

“ **Well, I cannot say I will be very sad to see him go; I don’t think I’ve tried to speak to Han in more than twenty years now. I am still unsure why this necessitated a conference…?** ” 

Hiroki-nii nodded politely back, hands still pressed against his eyes. 

“As you say. Well, as I am sure you have previously experienced, the death of the host will regrettably force you into a period of dis-corporeality, which I would imagine to be at least somewhat unpleasant. Unfortunately, the period of freedom you might experience after reformation would likely be tragically brief, as I am entirely sure that Iwa would have prepared another vessel for your eminent self by that time. You would most likely be sealed again.” 

There was a subtle pursing of the dolphin-horse’s beak, which made the creature seem rather resigned. 

“ **Yes.** ” 

“Well, if you did not feel it too presumptuous, I was wondering if you might consent to be housed within me, instead.” 

Naruto blinked at his brother in astonishment, mouth falling open in shock. 

“Niisan? You want to be a jinchuuriki too?” 

Kyuubi lept to his feet, sending the blond tumbling. 

“ **I _knew_ it! Wretched, power-hungry filth, the lot of you! Grabbing at every shiny object dangled in your face like mindless monkeys; you _ruined_ the world! Indra should have been strangled at birth, and Asura too, rather than have their lines brought to such pathetic ends!**” 

“I could have taken your other half, Otsutsuki-sama.” 

The massive fox froze, teeth bared at the still seated Jounin who continued in the same calm tone. 

“What my ancestor did to you was nothing short of heresy, a desecration and violation of the highest order. But I should hope that thus far I have shown you my lack of ill intentions towards yourself, or your kin. I know how to unseal the Shinigami’s stomach, and I could have taken your other half for my own. I did not. I did not force you to cooperate with Naruto. I did not wipe your mind, or chain you down. Have I not worked to help you? Have I not trained Naruto to be a considerate gaoler?” 

The fox’s growl was toxic to the ear, a noise of such malice and hatred that it made Naruto sick to listen to it. 

“ **But jailer he remains, and jailer _you_ hunger to be as well! Trifles and soft words!**” 

“And what would you have me do?!” 

Hiroki shouted back at the fox angrily face twisted in a sad and frustrated grimace. 

“You will _never_ be free while this world remains as it is, not now, when the secret of your binding has been made known so far and wide. If I unsealed you, what then? Another rampage? Another few hundred killed? And then caged again, tighter, sharper than before! Not even if all Nine of you were free would you be able to fight off the hordes which would come to feast on your power like carrion flies! You think yourself alone in your loathing? If I could I would do away with all who knew the secret of your sealing, but I am not strong enough! There are dozens, hundreds even, who might possess the knowledge, and all it would take was one survivor! Your imprisonment is a travesty, an affront to all that is right and natural, but even were I able, ensuring your freedom would mean the slaughter of thousands!” 

Kyuubi roared, tails lashing in frustrated rage as the noise seemed to shake the very air, before he vanished with a jarring suddenness. 

Kokuo sighed, looking after his departed brother with a concerned and careworn expression. 

“ **He was always the most passionate, the most caring. It is terrible to see him so twisted by his hatred.** ” 

The Bijuu’s massive blue eyes shut resignedly as he sighed once again. 

“ **I cannot find fault in your argument, young Hiroki. I suppose, were I to have my choice of prison, I would choose the one that asked my permission first. You may have me, though be it on your own head the consequences.** ” 

The white world dissolved, leaving Naruto blinking in the sudden shift. It seemed as if no time at all had passed in the real world, for his brother was still holding the corpse-still form of Han by the throat, and Sasuke and Sakura were still shocked into silence. Nissan blinked suddenly, before turning to the Iwa jinchuuriki with a solemn expression. 

“I thank you for the privilege.”

Sensei’s free hand shot through a series of hand-seals too fast to follow, before glowing a somewhat alarming shade of purple. 

“Five elements: Seal!” 

The glowing fingers sunk through the armor of the larger ninja, who slumped bonelessly from the barrier as the Jounin withdrew his hand, only to be flipped over onto his back with a quick motion. Naruto released the barrier technique and moved to stand near his Sensei, who was running through an even longer series of hand-seals. 

“Twenty Paths of Shelter: Seal.” 

With a faint sizzling sound, ink spun out from Hiroki’s crouched form to surround Kokuo’s expiring host. A tremor ran through the ground below them, preceding a wave of steam grey chakra rushing out of the bulky figure of Han and into the much more compact Uchiha teen. 

“What’s Sensei doing?” 

Naruto jumped a little at the sudden noise by his elbow, glancing to his kunoichi teammate. 

“He talked to the Gobi, and got permission to seal it into himself.” 

He glanced at the slightly trembling figure still posed with hands clasped in a ram seal. 

“I don’t know how long it will take.” 

His brother’s sole living eye slowly shifted to meet his own, and he spoke in a distracted, halting tone. 

“Not terribly long. I am only taking half of Kokuo-sama, and I designed the necessary redundancies into my own seal network years ago. A good ninja is always prepared, you know.” 

The younger Uchiha shifted slightly next to Naruto, face set in its normal faint frown. 

“Why only half?” 

“Speed, and to allow Kokuo-sama a small chance at freedom. Though it is unlikely, he might be able to escape the attempts of Iwa to reseal him in a new vessel. Hurgh!” 

With a faintly organic slurping sound, the chakra pouring out of the now quite dead Han stopped. Sensei rose to his feet somewhat unsteadily, before smiling faintly at all of the Genin. However, before he had even taken a step back to rejoin them the Jounin paused, brows pinching in a distracted frown, head cocked to listen to something only he could hear and gaze distant. 

Then the screaming started.

 

.           .           .

 

A/N: Thus ends Naruto's arc, and much earlier than I think most of us would have preferred. I'm sorry ya'll, I'm just not good at the style of writing that favors lots of shit happening. I know there are some writers out there that could have easily put out 100k words for each of the kid's arcs, but I dunno; I just don't have that many ideas. I guess I have a series of connected scenes that I can string together into a story, but the little moments of interaction that don’t really matter (but are of course fun to read) aren't really my wheelhouse.

Anyway, Hiroki has an Earth Style Rasengan! It's mostly just very very heavy and dense. Imagine a ball the size of a grapefruit which weighed over 100 kilos.


	48. Definition 5.1

May 13, 13 AK

Sasuke didn’t meant to yell at his Jounin-sensei. It was automatic. Everything during the team introduction was automatic, his brain too distracted to actively participate. He couldn’t remember where, exactly, but once he had read about something called an ‘outside context problem’, a challenge which had simply never been contemplated.  

There were all sorts of hurdles and obstacles he _had_ considered, even if only in a dim way, like having to flee the village due to civil war or… something. Ridiculous things. But there would always be problems you didn’t consider, because it was simply incomprehensible. The Pure World suddenly reversing the flow of souls so the dead started to rise from the grave. Things so unlikely, so unlooked for, that there really was no way to prepare.

 He didn’t start to come back to himself until he was finally home, staring down at a bowl of rice prepared for dinner. How could another Uchiha be alive? How could he not have known? Why… why didn’t Hiroki ever say anything?

 “What would I have said?”

 His fingers spasmed around the chopsticks in his hand as he snarled, spinning around to face the intruding Jounin. 

“Get out! This is _my_ house and you have _no_ right to be here!” 

The older Uc- ninja simply continued to stare at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes as he leaned against the wall, fingers twitching lazily. 

“Actually, this is the house of the clan head. Which means it’s _my_ house.” 

Sasuke froze for a second. 

“I became a legal adult when I was 10, after my promotion to Chunin. That was 6 years ago now, while _you_ just became an adult _yesterday_. So when… the number of Uchiha dropped, I was the oldest eligible member of the clan. The position isn’t technically hereditary, you know. That’s just tradition.”

 The Jounin hummed thoughtfully and tilted his head, late afternoon sun casting odd shadows across his mottled jacket. 

“Although, it is admittedly a bit of a grey area, since I’ve died several times. The law doesn’t quite cover resurrection. You’d have a decent case if you wanted to try and take headship from me, though I wasn’t ever _officially_ declared dead so…”

 Hiroki’s head dropped to meet Sasuke’s wide, glaring eyes. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

He blinked, unsure of what the… other Uchiha was asking. The hooded ninja raised his eyebrows. 

“What would I have said? What would you have had me do, Sasuke? I was 11, and delusional from trauma. Being a Chunin didn’t make me suitable to work as a parent, or even a brother.” 

There was a tiny flicker and Hiroki was seating himself across the table, head pillowed on a raised fist face still blankly placid beneath the mask. 

“And I was very scared.” 

Sasuke stared down at the bowl of rice for another second before pushing it away, appetite gone. His voice was little better than a croak as he asked the most important question.

 “How?” 

Bandaged fingers were tracing the fine grains in the varnished wood of the table as the older boy sighed. 

“You were _spared_. I was _ignored_. I begged, and… he let me go. I think. I must admit that night is rather fuzzy. Maybe it was a genjutsu. I know I died at least once.” 

Hiroki wasn’t looking at the table anymore, but rather at something infinitely further away. 

“Do you know what it’s like, being certain of your death? It might be liberating to some, foreknowledge, but for me it was… terror. I knew your brother would be my death when I was three; glimpse of the future if you like. Precognition is the death of hope. That stretching moment as the ledge crumbles under your feet, as the rope snaps, as the ice shatters just as you shift your weight forward, drawn out for almost a _decade_. I wouldn’t have touched you with a ten meter pole for love or money.”

 Black eyes met as they stared at each other over the table. 

“But I still kept an eye out for you. For family.” A flicker of smile twitched at the mask. “Don’t be strong, Sasuke.” 

A slight breeze ruffled his hair, and the Jounin was gone, leaving Sasuke with even more questions than before. 

 

.           .           .

 

Sasuke decided, after the first three days, that the fact of Hiroki’s existence was a topic that could for the moment be, if not ignored, then safely put aside in favor of simply appreciating finally having a teacher willing and able to push his training far beyond the limits of what his body should logically be capable of while still being subject to the normal laws of physics. 

“Come on everyone! One more lap of the village and then we can relax a bit with some stretches before we get breakfast.”

 The younger Uchiha was somewhat impressed with his team, because Sakura clearly wanted to voice some sort of complaint, but was, for once, blessedly silent. He thought he caught her shooting him an odd look as she stifled the comment and pressed her head further down to keep running, but… it was probably his imagination. 

Regrettably, it appeared that despite any newfound determination Sakura may (or may not) have found, she still wasn’t particularly fit. 

A carelessly placed foot not two minutes later leads to her leg sliding out at an awkward angle. He sighed as the pinkette hit the ground; wasn’t it enough that she would hold the team back in general without _literally_ holding the team back? 

“Don’t stop. Sakura, on my back.” 

...or maybe not. The Jounin’s hand glowed a pale green around the girl’s ankle as the boys kept running. They had only completed another mile before Sakura was back with them, still breathing heavily, but seeming to have recovered slightly from the moment of rest and whatever jutsu had fixed her ankle. 

Sasuke grunted softly in approval. No more accidents slowing training, just constant pushing. This team might end up decent after all. 

They burst into the training ground twenty minutes later, every member of Team 7 heaving for breath as they finally stopped running. 

“Backs straight, chest out, breathe through your stomach. Don’t stop moving just yet, keep walking for another minute or two. Here.” -Sasuke caught the tossed bottle of water easily and cracked it open- “Drink in small sips. We’ll start stretching in a moment here and I’ll check you all for damage.” 

The water tasted odd, and Sasuke spat out the small mouthful and looked back at his teacher ascance. The Jounin rolled his eyes. 

“Just sugar, salt, caffeine, and a bit of flavoring. You need to stay hydrated and you lose salt when you sweat. The caffeine and sugar will keep you going despite the time, though I’ll give you something a bit stronger later. Flavoring because it tastes gross otherwise. Still doesn’t taste great. Drink.” 

Sasuke hesitated for a moment still. Hiroki dropped to the ground and started stretching. 

“I told you I’d warn you before poisoning you. I don’t like lying. You’ll be starting on some basic poisons after you finish the water, now _drink_.”  

His pink teammate sat down next to him and began doing a few stretches as well, frowning slightly. 

“Sensei, you aren’t really going to be feeding us poisons are you?” 

The man grunted as he bent forward till his chin reached his feet. 

“A few. Building an immunity to a poison is rather hit and miss. Taking a small dose allows your body to build defenses against the toxin, however not all toxins are easy for your body to recognize and some can actually accumulate inside your organs over time and kill you that way. However there are perhaps two dozen fairly common poisons which you _can_ build an immunity to, so it is worthwhile. Though your stomach may not agree.” 

The orange moron practically screeched his outrage. 

“Poison’s so lame though! It’s like ‘boom you’re dead’; it’s so boring!” 

Sakura shook her head awkwardly while pulling down on the elbow cocked behind her shoulder.

 “Not all poisons are lethal, and not every potentially lethal poison is lethal to everyone. Even something like an anesthetic can be useful. Imagine if you couldn’t feel how hurt you were, so you just kept fighting till you bled to death.” 

Sasuke could imagine it all too clearly. What felt like a few shallow cuts actually being deep wounds; maybe add on some anticoagulant so they kept bleeding freely… He glanced up at his Sensei. 

“Will you be teaching us about poisons?” 

Over-wide eyes met his own, black on black. 

“If you’re interested; we’ll start specializing once you’ve built a stronger foundation. I wouldn’t be averse to it. I caution you though, it is a tricky art, and more than one aspiring poison master has met an early end at the hand of his own tools.”- he arched his back into a curve till his head was pointing back towards them- “I have a decent acquaintance with the topic, and even I am wary. But a few of the milder ones… certainly. There’s actually an interesting one based off of Hemlock which induces painful cramping and impairs breathing. The effects only last about an hour or two but…” 

Sasuke listened quietly to the lecture, and his mind whirled with possibilities. 

The stretching and concomitant introduction to basic poison jutsu took about half an hour, and left several of his joints aching for the brief moment before bandaged fingers wrapped around them and abruptly relieved the pain. He had been mildly surprised by several of Sakura’s more insightful questions. He wouldn’t ever compliment her (he loathed his fangirls with a fiery passion and positive reinforcement of any kind was absolutely anathema) but it was at least nice to know that even if her general skills were lacking she at least had a decent brain under that stupid hair. 

“Ne, Sensei, you mentioned we’d be working on the basics a lot, but why? Didn’t we get that down in the academy?” 

The simple meal of rice and eggs Sensei had prepared was practically destroyed by Naruto’s repulsive manners, but they all had more than enough to get them back to just under full. The hooded ninja cocked his head at the pink haired girl. 

“I have higher standards than the academy.” The Jounin paused for a second before continuing, expression thoughtful and distant in that way he sometimes had. 

“I have personally found, for instance, that having better chakra control doesn’t merely mean you can use more jutsu, or larger jutsu, but improves just about everything to a surprising degree. Your body will heal and your stamina return faster, blows will hit harder and hurt less, your thoughts and limbs will be quicker to heed your call… Not by too much, perhaps, but those are the _side_ benefits. A solid foundation can be used to build anything. So the basics, which will make up that foundation, are very important. A jutsu which can shatter mountains will do you no good if to use it once would kill you.” 

Sasuke paused with the next bite halfway to his mouth and glanced at his instructor for a moment. Perhaps it was an artifact of their… shared heritage, but it seemed like Hiroki knew what he meant without having to voice anything for his cousin nodded agreeably in his direction.

 “You _will_ learn such things in time, but you need to grow before then, and thought it may be slower than you’d like to begin with, you will get there in the end.”

 

.           .           .

 

 A/N: It was _hard_ writing Sasuke's reaction. Finding out about Hiroki's existence would come so far out of left field it should almost crack his brain. Ugh.

This was actually a game I played as a kid; I'd ask people the most random questions I could think of 'what would you do if a leech the size of a small dog fell out of a tree in front of you while you were walking home?' But the problem is that because we don't have a pre-existing template for how to respond we are really bad at guessing our own behavior.

Anyway; the Han v Hiroki fight scene has been modified from its original version to fit reality better.

Thematic music for Sasuke’s arc: I’m a member of the Midnight Crew


	49. Definition 5.2

To be fair, Sasuke _had_ asked about poisons. It was an interesting topic, and one which didn’t seem too difficult to pursue in addition to other ends. 

His face pinched as he rinsed out the mouthful of poisoned tea with a cup of salty water. 

It didn’t taste very nice though. 

Every 7th day was a day of rest. Even with medical jutsu the body wore down slightly, and it became harder and harder to focus on training when the days started to blur together. However, there was no such things as actual ‘rest’ with Hiroki-sensei, so the days off from physical conditioning were spent on other things. Sakura had gotten a huge stack of books to read. Naruto was doing something private with Sensei. He had gotten several poisons to taste. 

He pulled out the next packet of white powder (and weren’t they all simply variations on white powder?) and mixed it into a new cup of green tea. Calling it poison tasting was something of a misnomer, as most of the poisons only had a very slight bitter or sweet taste. It was more about noticing the smell, and the feel of it on the lips and tongue. Did it prickle like cold and mint? Did it make his mouth feel warmer? Did it give the tea an odd odor or color or viscosity? All necessary background if he wanted to use such compounds in battle. At least as far as Sensei was concerned. 

This one was a little bit peppery, a sort of spiciness that made his nose itch faintly. It wasn’t actually terribly unpleasant; if it had been a different sort of tea he might not have noticed, or thought it a boon, an interesting quirk to a private blend perhaps. 

He spat it out and rinsed his mouth once more, taking a small sip of the carefully labeled unadulterated tea sitting on the opposite side of the table, grimacing slightly at the tepid liquid. 

Well, just one last poison to sample. His eyes scanned over the instructions and his forehead crinkled slightly.

  _Lysergic acid diethylamide - 100 µg: place paper on tongue and allow to dissolve 60s._

 Well, it made sense that the final sample would actually be used for resistance training. Hopefully it wouldn’t give him sweats like the last one had; that had been unpleasantly sticky. 

He had given it half an hour but there didn’t appear to be any major effects of whatever the poison had been. Maybe it was just slower to kick in, some compounds were like that. He glanced at the window, noting the angle of the light, and decided it was probably about time for dinner. 

“Sasuke? Are you home?” 

His mood soured slightly at his Sensei’s voice, but he simply heaved a sigh rather than voice a protest at the intrusion. 

The older ninja slid open the door quietly and glanced down at the small pile of empty packets set to one side of the table. 

“Oh good. You’re done. I brought some dinner.” 

A bag was dangled demonstratively, bulging with what looked like takeout containers. Sasuke merely grunted. It would be better than whatever he would have prepared himself, of that he could be sure.

 It wasn’t until they had been eating for about twenty minutes that Sasuke started to suspect something odd was going on. His first tip had been when he bit his chopsticks and felt a sympathetic pain in his fingers, but now he was quite sure because he could feel his hands on the table _through_ the table. 

“What did you do to me?” 

Hiroki blinked up at him, expression pleasantly open. 

“It’s one of my own compounds, derived from the ergot fungus which grows on wheat. Much more potent though. I thought it might help you relax.” 

Hands were on his shoulders and they were moving to the living room; it seemed like the hallway was infinitely long and they weren’t moving at all, but then they were there. 

“You see Sasuke, I’ve thought about it a little and I think I should share some things with you. Things about the Uchiha, and about that night.” 

His head was dissolving into a puddle in Sensei’s lap while his fingers grew into the tatami mats underneath them like reeds. The air was fuzzy on his skin and he could taste blue, thoughts flicking to Naruto as a strange tingle built in his stomach.

 “Just focus on my voice, Sasuke, and remember that everything will be okay. I will never hurt you. Remember that, if all else fades. Everything will be okay.” 

It didn’t really seem that way right now, really, but though the tickling sensations coming to him from the line of ants crawling across the window were distinctly odd it wasn’t precisely unpleasant, and there was a very soothing warmth coming to him through the hands gently tangling in his hair. 

“The Uchiha were a very proud clan. This is not to say that they were wrong to be, but it is a factor which should be remembered.” 

Of course they were proud, the Uchiha were the strongest clan in Konoha, why wouldn’t they be proud? They could trace their lineage back to the dawn of time, their nobility was intrinsic and undeniable, a force of nature like the flames their jutsu produced. 

“However, pride often makes one… confident. Certain that you know what to do, and that what you are doing is the best thing to be doing. The Uchiha didn’t get along very well with the other clans in the village.”

 The compound was an island amid a sea of leaves, filled with little flames that twitched and danced in the wind. But... no, it was full of little fans, little uchiwas, blowing the fires hotter with every flap of their tongues. 

“Mistakes were made. Some of them might have been made regardless, but some were certainly nudged along. When the Kyuubi attacked 13 years ago, some suspicion fell on the Uchiha, due to… our Founder.” 

That made some sense. Madara could control the Kyuubi, the sharingan boring into the eye and swirling like a whirlpool to drown a world. So much red, like crimson rain drip-drip-dripping from the heavens, each drop landing in his eyes to tint them towards his birthright. 

His breathing started to accelerate, heartbeat quickening as he began to drown, before soothing peppermint tingles radiated down his scalp from Hiroki’s gently massaging fingers.  

“Breathe, Sasuke. I am here. You are not alone.”

 It took a moment, but he calmed eventually under the calming feeling of oneness. 

“The Clan made further poor decisions. Interaction between the Uchiha and the rest of the village became strained.”

 The hands in his hair were fusing with his skull, there was no distinction between Uchiha, they were all one, even the ghosts in the walls. So very many ghosts, and it was his responsibility to avenge them all; couldn’t anyone else hear them whispering to him, begging him for justice? The ghost faded, one by one, replaced by his mother, smiling ever so softly at him. 

“The situation might have been salvaged. Shisui had a powerful technique; it could have calmed things down. There was interference.”

  _Itachi_ , his mind whispered, and the whorls and knots of the wood became eyes to look at him. How could you Itachi, my world, my brother, you left me behind. 

“It was not Itachi-okamisama’s fault.” 

His brain ground to a halt, the spinning of the earth flinging him through the ceiling. Those words could not be accurate, the world could not have such an order in it; it would be anarchy, 2+2=5 and then everything that can be counted crumbles about your ears like a house of flash cards with multiplication tables written on them. 

“He wished for peace. But there was no more hope for that. The Clan was actively plotting Treason; betrayal can never be forgiven. Shisui was murdered by an outside party, and Itachi-okamisama was persuaded that… no other option existed.”

 He _burned_ with it, a deep swelling sensation that brushed up against the paper-thin shell of his skin like hungry fingers. How could they? How dare they? They took everything, he would end them, he had too, it was his _function_.  

“I have not been idle. The one who ruined things, who _pushed_ , has been dealt with. Honor has been satisfied on that account. The last, the one who persuaded Itachi-okamisama, who helped with the… He remains.” 

There was a pressure in his soul like nothing he had ever felt before, and he could taste the rage in the air like sweet fire and bitter pain. The arms around his neck held him tight while his face grew hot and wet and his chest heaved with the fury. Once more, the worry and rage were smoothed away, his anxious grasping at phantoms calmed by the sweet green waves emanating from his teacher’s fingers. 

“He is strong, Sasuke; stronger than any who now live, the man in the orange swirled mask. But he is not invulnerable. He is not unbeatable. And we will make him _pay_ for what he stole from us. For your brother. For my mother. He will _pay_.” 

The walls dripped with the distilled essence of the purpose in Hiroki’s voice, filling the room so they floated in diamond clear water that rippled in time with his breath. It was a cold so cold it burned, and he could feel the tears on his cheeks chip away in the infinite arctic wind under the onslaught. 

“Itachi loved you, above all things, above all others. He did it for you, Sasuke, and now he is eaten up inside, waiting for you to release him from his duty. He is dying. But we can save him. We can make things right again. It is easy to hate. It is much harder to love. But love burns so much hotter, and it will leave you clean, where hatred leaves you empty.” 

He couldn’t breathe through the weight of it all, the crushing gravity of the blood sliding up the walls like vines, sprouting thorns like knives which cut the skin of the room, drawing lines of white hot agony on his flesh, that forced him to gasp out the question. 

“Why? Why me? Why this?” 

Hiroki’s head lowered to whisper in his ear voice soft and gentle as his exhaustion mounted, eyelids growing heavier and heavier as the mad world slipped away. 

“For love, Sasuke. His love, and mine.”

 

.           .           .

 

When Sasuke woke the next morning the other Uchiha was gone. There was a warm lump near his feet, and when he sat up his eyes met those of Fovea, his cousin’s nin-cat. He scratched the large feline gently, his mind surprisingly clear. 

His cousin. He hadn’t wanted to think of Hiroki that way, for the hurt of knowing there was another Uchiha and he hadn’t been told. But not for naught. 

He remembered him, the short ANBU who told him to be flexible. How long had the other Uchiha watched him, before saying anything? Did it matter?  

His fingers stroked through the silken fur of the cat for a moment as he simply considered the problem.

 No. No it didn’t. Not really. It hurt, and it probably always would, at least a little, but… Would he have done better in a similar position? It was easy to imagine how easy it would be to say something, anything, but reality was seldom so simple. And it was in the past now. Thinking about it wouldn’t help.

 Sasuke slid out of the covers and stretched luxuriously in the predawn glow through his window. 

It was in the past, and holding on to it wouldn’t help. He had to think about the future. Itachi was… He flinched slightly and began to throw on some clothes. 

He could think about that later. That pain was still too sharp for the moment, but it was rather like having had a knife in his side all these years finally removed. It hurt, and it bled, but now it could finally heal, in time.

 He paused for a second as he slid open the door of his bedroom. 

What was he going to do now? He had only ever really had two goals, and if he was really honest with himself, really only one. Rebuilding the Clan was… Think of something else. It was a moot point anyway, with Hiroki around. 

He had needed to kill Itachi, but Itachi was not to blame. The one who had contributed most was dead, and if he had anything like an accurate understanding of his Sensei, it was very likely everyone else involved as well. There was just one more. The man in the mask. 

Strong, Sensei said. Stronger than any who now live. But not unkillable. 

He poked the feeling in his chest as he thought about it, trying to muster up any lingering embers of hate, but he didn’t feel anything. Love will leave you clean, while hate will leave you empty. 

He nodded slowly as he entered the training ground where his team was gathering in the early morning chill. 

Yes, he could work with that. He loved Itachi, and he’d kill the masked man for him. Not for hate. For love.

 

.           .           .

 

 

A/N: For those not hip to psychopharmacology, LSD is like, liquid catharsis if the trip is properly managed, a service a ninja talented with both illusions and medical techniques can provide.

The history of the compound as a drug is so incredibly fucked; the only reason it is illegal is because the CIA tried to use it as a mind control drug (it failed, I'm not kidding, check out Project MKUltra). It isn't addictive, the only fatality (singular) ever attributed to it was someone dosed without consent or knowledge who tripped off a balcony (compare to alcohol which kills literally thousands of people every year) and the side effects are incredibly mild (though due to it's classification as a schedule 1 substance in the US actual studies using it are sadly thin on the ground).

The primary effect is a dissolution of the ego, the sense of self, which is why people often report feeling as if the environment is part of their body.

Don't do drugs kids; they might be incredibly awesome and have little or no risk of serious adverse health effects, but because they're illegal you'll be forced to buy them from shady people!


	50. Definition 5.3

June 6, 13 AK 

Sasuke grunted faintly in irritation as he diverted his sword strike to avoid hitting Sakura. He wouldn’t have worried about slicing the other male on the team, but Naruto was currently trying to find an opening to attack on the opposite side of the clearing, wary hands clutched around those ridiculous sickles.

 A hand shot out, swift as a falling branch, to grab Sakura around the throat in velvet gentle but iron firm fingers. 

“Fail.” 

He scowled as Sensei brought the round to a close, an expression which Hiroki caught with that curious twisting of the head. 

“Yes? Something you wanted to say Sasuke?” 

He smoothed his expression out, but the damage was done. Sensei was _looking_ at him, and that expression never held good things. 

“Do you think your teammates are holding you back?” 

No, not really, not in so many words. It just seemed… well, like it might be easier to fight on his own. Team 7 had a lot of rather headstrong people in it, and they didn’t always coordinate very well. Someone was always in the way of someone else. 

The Jounin’s eyes narrowed at his continued silence. 

“Do you want to play another game of Biopsy?” 

The Genin shared a mutual shudder at the mention of what could only be very loosely described as a ‘game’, which (though educational) involved scalpels and specimen tubes and appeared to be Sensei’s preferred method of ‘motivating’ them if their performance wasn’t up to snuff. Sasuke spoke up hurriedly. 

“No, Sensei. I’m just…”-he licked his lips searching for the right word- “having trouble getting a feel for their patterns.” 

The masked Uchiha paused, blinking slowly, aura of menace fading away. 

“Hmm.” 

Sasuke froze, scrutinizing his instructor for any sign of what Hiroki was thinking. A thoughtful Hiroki could be a very good thing, or a very bad thing, and the latter tended to be true more regularly than the former. His train of increasingly anxious thought ended as the sound of clapping hands rung out through the training ground. 

“Okay! I have a new plan.” 

He suddenly had a very bad feeling about the immediate future. Then everything went black.

 

.           .           .

 

It took Sasuke a few minutes to realize he was awake. Surely he must still be dreaming. There was the sound of someone calling his name, as if from far off, but it was probably just someone trying to wake him from this pleasant warmth of his bed. After all, there was no such thing as a tree that bi- oh god tiger! 

He spun off the branch a moment before a massive set of claws sank into the wood he had been sprawled across. Only a split second before he would have tumbled to the forest floor more than fifty feet down did his hand slap onto the branch and stick him in place. He had only been hanging for a few heartbeats when the massive cat on the branch let out an earsplitting yowl and hot liquid began to drip down towards him. 

A panicked blond head peeked over the edge a second later, blue eyes darting around for signs of further danger. 

“Sasuke?! Are you okay? Did he get you?” 

The Uchiha blinked. Had he ever seen Naruto so riled up before? He hadn’t thought the other boy could feel genuinely afraid, but now his orange teammate was almost twitchy looking, which didn’t suit him at all. 

“I’m fine. Where’s Sakura? Where are we?” 

Naruto laughed, a little bit higher pitched and frantic sounding a noise than usual, clutching at his head with hands hidden by the sleeves of his hoodie. 

“She’s close, just a couple branches over. She’s fine. We’re all fine, we’re just in the freaking FOREST OF DEATH, what’s to be nervous about? HAHAHAHA!” 

Sasuke flipped over to stand upright next to his teammate and give the Uzumaki a firm bop on the head with a fist. 

“Calm down. How do you know where we are?” 

Naruto paused, seeming to emerge slightly from the voluminous folds of his hoodie as he rubbed his head. 

“I, I got a note. From Sensei.” -he pointed at Sasuke’s chest where a small piece of paper had been pinned to his shirt- “You’ve got one too.” 

So he did. He plucked it up and spread it out to read, recognizing Hiroki’s almost calligraphic writing immediately. 

_I thought a different sort of teamwork exercise might help you all to bond. Welcome to advanced training ground 44. This area is home to a wide variety of hazardous plants and animals, however, each of you has got a little present to help you along. Sasuke, you will be able to detect poisonous substances present in your food, though it might not be perfectly accurate so be careful! You’ll all need to work together to make it to the central tower by tomorrow night without getting eaten. Have fun!_  

He glanced from the note to his teammate, who was holding out a hand to show off a pattern in dark ink scrawled across the palm. Naruto smiled a little sheepishly at his inquiring glance, starting to relax back to his usual bouncy self. 

“I can sort of feel when something starts coming towards us fast. Sensei said it was to help keep us safe from an ambush. It’s how I knew something was coming for you.” 

After glancing down at his own palm Sasuke could confirm that he had a similar design, though he could tell it was different in subtle ways. He glanced back around at the woods, trying to make out any hint of an edge amongst the shadows and endless trees. 

“You called this the Forest of Death?” 

Naruto chewed on the edge of a lip, gaze sweeping the trees while his hands shifted anxiously on the handle of his sickles. 

“That’s what Sakura called it, yeah. And what with the giant tigers and all…” 

The blond trailed off, gesturing lamely at the massive cat’s corpse. Sasuke stared at the carcass for a long second before stepping closer and running his hand over the meat. He couldn’t feel anything coming from the seal. With a small scowl he realized that he didn’t actually know what the signal for something poisonous was. He pulled out the small vial of weak muscle relaxant Sensei had entrusted him with three days ago and immediately felt the Seal on his hand grow hot. 

“Well, we’re gonna need food. This tiger has a lot of meat on its bones.”

 His teammate simply blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment before giving a small start of realization.

 “Oh! Right, no ramen in a forest... I didn’t have any rations on me this morning…” 

Sasuke did _not_ jump a little when Sakura landed on the branch next to them with a thump. Naruto almost screamed like a girl. The kunoichi smiled grimly at the pair of them, her eyes scanning around the dappled shadows cast by dense foliage as a strange screeching sound echoed through the woods. 

“That’s probably a lesson in and of itself Naruto. Always keep some food on hand. I’m never leaving home again without at least a basic field kit. As is I only have my weapons pouch handy. What about you guys?” 

The Uchiha hated to admit it, but he didn’t have anything very useful on hand either. His sword was in its sheathe at his waist, and a pouch full of kunai, shuriken, and a spool of ninja wire hung from his hip, but that was it. He didn’t even have a canteen, and the moist heat was already making him sweat. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair.

 “Well, no use now. Let’s move.”

 

.           .           .

 

When Team 7 stumbled into the tower 46 hours later, covered in dirt and scratches, clothing torn and vaguely haunted looks on their exhausted faces, it was to find their Sensei waiting for them with a cheerful expression on his visible face and a buffet hot and ready to eat, the small grey-brown owl perched neatly on his shoulder making a familiar but much quieter screeching sound.

 The masked Jounin smiled pleasantly, creasing the fabric stretched across his face. 

“You made it! I’m so proud of all of you; I was a little worried that spraying you with tiger pheromones might have been a bit much, but Tsutsumi here says you’ve far exceeded my expectations. Good job!”

 Naruto made a sort of incoherent squawk of bewildered hurt, but the blond was so tired that the noise rather reminded Sasuke of a concussed parrot being fed into a woodchipper, and the only response was a slow blink from Sensei’s owl. Sakura’s wordless snarl was a bit closer to his own opinion, but before he could voice his agreement she had crumpled into a little heap at his feet, unconscious before she hit the ground.

 Naruto made another noise, though this time it sounded more like an amorous toad longing for the sweet release of death. With a wave of his hand a couple clones poofed into existence and fell into slightly deranged feral crouches before disappearing into the shadowed corners of the room. Even Naruto’s stamina had limits though, and the other male on Team 7 collapsed in the wake of the sentries’ departure. Sasuke blinked his newly acquired Sharingan on for a second to scan the area before finally giving in to the crushing fatigue.

 Temporarily reassured as to their collective safety Sasuke slumped to the floor in a heap with his teammates. As consciousness fled Sasuke was forced to grudgingly admit that, in a technical sense, the exercise had been a success.

 

.           .           .

 A/N: I once read a fic where Kakashi skipped the bell test and used 'drop them in the FoD for a week' as the initial bonding experience. It was named Blood Wings Ascension, and despite having the most pretentious name imaginable it was probably at least a 6/10; though the sequel died which means that retrospectively it becomes a 5/10. And it's been a long time since I read it, so maybe it was shittier than I remember...

Anyway. Owls are great, because they're practically fluffy little video cameras. They're small, they're good at stealth, and they have excellent sensor and observation abilities.


	51. Definition 5.4

July 30, 13 AK 

Sasuke had been a very tiny bit aggrieved to have been passed over when Sensei had chosen who would lead their first C-rank. It was a small thing, really. He didn’t doubt Sakura’s competence anymore, least of all in a position that called for intelligence, but he did feel that it might make more sense to have the strongest team member take charge for their first mission outside of the safety of the village.

 Admittedly the gap in skill was closing at a fairly steady pace, what with Sakura’s nearly ludicrous chakra control and Naruto’s _genuinely_ ludicrous capacity to spam clones, but still. She had a good head on her shoulder’s at least, though he sometimes still got the unnerving feeling that she was staring at him whenever she had the night watch. And once he had found her collecting bits of his torn clothing after practice. But really she had gotten loads better about being a pathetic fangirl.

When their first mission had gone wrong it certainly hadn’t been Sakura’s fault; how could she have known that crazy missing-nin and his partner would ambush them before they had even boarded the boat to Wave? Thinking rationally about it, there hadn’t really been a better way to handle the screw up either. Some Chunin in the Missions Approval department was likely short a few limbs once Sensei got back to Konoha, but there hadn’t been a better option _during_ the mission. They would just have to do more thorough fact checking in future. 

And they had. When Sensei had chosen him as the next mission lead they had gone over everything twice, down to the second generation of their client’s relatives even, making absolutely sure that there wouldn’t be any surprises or ‘accidentally omitted details’; that they weren’t stepping into the middle of some ancient blood-feud or secretly carrying papers that would change the inheritance of a multi-million ryo corporation or… anything so _stupid_. 

There was nothing. It was an entirely standard courier mission; the contract wasn’t for a huge amount of money and their client didn’t have any significant competitors or credible enemies, the route would only take them out of Fire Country for 3 days out of the total week of travel time, the area was peaceful with no meaningful bandit presence- the contract wasn’t even for weapons, just bulk metals for common household uses! The client just wanted speedy, reliable delivery of a contract which was really only important to him and the mine he was purchasing from.

 He would later emphasize to his teammates (who didn’t really seem to care too much, but it was the principle of the thing) that they had _technically_ completed the mission by the time things went horribly wrong. As soon as they had dropped off the scroll they were done, and since the mission was over, it wasn’t even _really_ Sasuke in charge when the Iwa-nin had dropped out of the sky and completely ruined everything. 

As he stared at the twisted wreckage that was all that remained of one of his few still living relatives, Sasuke wasn’t sure what to feel. He didn’t _like_ Hiroki-sensei, per-se; he valued the Jounin’s teachings, and he didn’t have any particular animosity left over from the… period of distance after the Massacre but… They hadn’t quite built anything closer over the past months. It was more that they had settled back to what they had always been: somewhat distant relatives.

Seeing the teen pop back up and return the total annihilation with interest was… ugh. So many feelings; he understood why Hiroki wore a mask. Maybe he should consider something like that when they got back to Konoha. Maybe even just a simple grey scarf... 

The weight of the insensate Jounin on his back shifted slightly as he landed on the next branch and he adjusted his arms to keep the still faintly twitching body steady.

“Naruto, anything?”

The blond glanced at him before generating a single clone and dispelling it with a swift chop. After another second the orange ninja gained a distracted look from the newly relayed information before shaking his head in the negative. 

“Nothing within ten klicks. We passed a little farmstead five minutes ago; judging by the distance between them there’s probably another one coming up in half an hour maybe.” 

Sasuke glanced up at the sun, before glancing down and around to check the position of the shadows. They had been running flat out for nearly 6 hours already; 30 minutes was a little early for a break, but he was still a tad wary of moving Sensei so much while in such an unstable condition. He paused on the next branch, joined a moment later by his pink teammate, the only one who had achieved a reasonable measure of success with medical jutsu. 

“Sakura, how’s Sensei?” 

The kunoichi reached out a hand and placed it on the back of Hiroki’s neck. He could feel the faint tingle in his hair as she used some sort of diagnostic technique, and hear the small sigh as she finished scanning. 

“Unchanged. I don’t understand what’s happening. It feels like his coils are… writhing; realigning themselves. I don’t know what could cause something like that, but it must have had something to do with that sealing thing he did.” 

He could see Naruto shift slightly at her words, and came to a decision. 

“We’ll stop when we hit the next town. If we get a good rest tonight we can push a little longer tomorrow and get to the Konoha outpost near Misuzu-gai by evening. Thoughts?” 

His teammates shook their heads and they set off again through the fading light of the afternoon.

 

.           .           .

 

Once they had settled into a farmer’s spare room Sasuke turned to Naruto, face determined.

 “You know something. What happened to Sensei?” 

The blond chewed on his lower lip nervously, glancing between the raven haired Uchiha, Sakura, and the still unconscious form of their teacher. 

“I… I’m not really… supposed to say.” 

Sasuke scowled, eliciting a reciprocal fluff of anger from his erstwhile rival, who folded his arms defiantly.

“I’m not! I _can_ , but… it’s an S-rank secret…” 

His frown softened slightly as he noted the tone of Naruto’s voice. Uncertainty? Naruto was many things (many _annoying_ things), but timid was not one of them. Sakura seemed to be picking up some of the same vibe, for she scooted a little closer and placed a hand on the blond’s shoulder reassuringly. 

“It’s okay Naruto. We need to know.” 

The other boy fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie for a second before nodding gingerly. 

“Okay, so… you know how the Yondaime killed the Kyuubi?” -he glanced at them to make sure they were paying attention- “Well, the thing is, he kind of… _couldn’t_ , actually? You can’t kill the Biju, they’re made of chakra, they _can’t_ die; if you disrupt them enough they dissipate but they’ll reform eventually and…” 

“And you’d just have to do it again.” 

Naruto nodded at Sasuke’s comment, fingers still worrying at the seam of his sleeve.

“Yeah. So, the best way to deal with them is to, well, Seal them. But they’re so powerful they’ll corrode an inanimate container so-” 

“They seal them in living things. They seal them in _people_ , don’t they?” 

They both glanced at Sakura in surprise and Naruto nodded again, running a hand through his shaggy hair. Sasuke noted absently that the blond mop had been getting a little longer recently, and now had enough weight to it to hang slightly, like a mane. He blinked at that thought, and the tiny frown he usually wore deepened fractionally. Why was he getting distracted by Naruto’s hair? 

He blinked again as the object of his focus spoke. 

“Yeah.”

Sasuke stared at the single flickering lamp which lit the room and thought for a moment. Somewhere in Konoha there was a ninja walking around with the Kyuubi in his gut. What would that be like? So much power running just underneath your skin; the stories said that the Demon Fox could reshape the landscape with a single sweep of its tails, causing tsunamis and hurricanes with the force of its roar. And now all of that fury was bottled up within a few lines of ink and a shell of fragile meat. 

“Anyway, the Kyuubi is the strongest of the Nine, but, well, there are _Nine_. That guy Sensei fought, Han, he was the holder of the Five Tailed Dolphin-Horse, Kokuo. I’m pretty sure Sensei sealed the Gobi inside himself okay but… something might have gone wrong or… Usually they choose kids to be Jinchuriki, because your coils don’t really start to settle until you’re like 6; it makes it easier for the host to adapt to the chakra. I don’t know what _exactly_ is happening to Sensei, but it’s probably something to try and make it so Kokuo’s chakra can fit into his system better.” 

Sakura stared between Naruto and Sensei for a long moment, a wary look on her face, and Sasuke frowned a little harder as he thought about the blond’s words. 

“Naruto, how do you know about all of that?”

Sasuke shook his head and sighed in mild irritation slumping into a more comfortable position against the rough wooden walls of the farmhouse. He wanted to punch himself, it was so transparently obvious. There was a freaking _nine_ on his shirt for kami’s sake. 

“He’s the Kyuubi Jinchuriki, obviously.” 

The other boy flinched a little and shot him a nervous look, making Sasuke roll his eyes in exasperation and huff an irritated breath. 

“Oh don’t cringe. Honestly, I feel like enough of an idiot for not figuring it out sooner.” 

His female teammate blinked in sudden realization as she looked at Naruto again in a new light, visibly assessing what she had previously believed about the Uzumaki.

“Oh! Because you’re an orphan, right Naruto? That makes so much sense; they wouldn’t have wanted any one of the clans to get so much power all at once, so they’d choose someone no one would miss who didn’t have any previous attachments. Uzumaki might not even be your parent’s name; it was probably a tribute to Uzushio.”

The blond had retracted into his jacket a little, but at their lack of anger or offense he began to emerge like an optimistic turtle, an expression of tentative hope on his face.

“You’re- you’re not mad?” 

Sakura sent the boy a withering look at the temerity to even ask such a question, while Sasuke snorted quietly in derisive amusement. 

“Of course not Naruto! I mean, it’s not like you’re the Fox! A little _jealous_ maybe, because it means there really isn’t anyway Sasuke or I could catch up to you in the chakra department; but it’s not as if you’re one second away from going crazy and eating our livers or something, right?” 

Naruto coughed slightly and ran a hand over his head, chuckling nervously. 

“Ahh, well, some Jinchuriki have a _little_ trouble with that, but- but-” -he waved his hands frantically at their disturbed looks- “the Yondaime was like, _really_ good at sealing; I never even knew the fuzzball was in my gut until the last day of the academy, and it was actually really hard learning how to enter the seal and talk to him.” 

Sasuke’s brows pinched together as Sakura voiced what he had been thinking, tidily freeing him from the obligation of speech. Good kunoichi. Best teammate. 

“Why would you want to talk to a demon?”

 Naruto puffed up again, this time with a look of determined affront in his baby blue eyes.

“He’s not a demon! We’re almost related, sort of. “ 

At his team’s looks of flat incomprehension Naruto rolled his eyes and scratched his hair roughly grimacing vaguely in frustration. 

“Well, the Sage of Six Paths had two sons who went on to create the Uchiha, Senju, and Uzumaki, but he also kind of treated the Bijuu he made like kids, so Kyu-ji is sort of my uncle? Like, a bajillion times removed, obviously, but, you know… yours too Sasuke, so. Well. And I mean-” -the blond waved his hands in a vague grasping motion- “He’s actually- well, he isn’t _nice_ , but he isn’t any meaner than a regular person. How would you like it if someone stuffed you in a box for fifty years? But, anyway, I’ve been talking to him sometimes and… I think he’s been getting… a little better?”

Naruto held his fingers about a millimeter apart to indicate just how little, causing Sakura to smother a snort of laughter. The orange Jinchuriki pouted cutely at her but was kind enough to ignore the slight.

“He doesn’t just yell about ripping out my intestines and strangling me with them or burning down the village and salting the earth it was built on or… well most of the time he just naps, actually. And he keeps telling me about how much of an asshole everyone we meet is, but I know everyone has good _and_ bad parts, and just because he can only sense the bad parts doesn’t mean the good parts aren't there, and even if they weren’t we just have to make those people better anyway because if we just focused on the bad stuff all the time then where would we be? Huh?! You hear me fluffbutt?! Feh, he’s asleep again. Or pretending to sleep. Dick.” 

Sasuke stared at his teammate for a long second before closing his eyes and taking a deep and steadying breath. He turned to Sakura and shared a solemn look with the kunoichi. 

“Well, it’s obvious he’s caught Sensei’s crazy. We’ll have to put him down, for the good of the village.” 

The pinkette’s laughter was almost loud enough to cover Naruto’s scream of offense.

 

.           .           .

  
A/N: Naruto is such a silly billy, worrying about his team's reaction. He should know better by now.

 

Supposedly Isobu and Yagura meshed because they had highly compatible chakra frequencies or something; and it would be remiss of a skilled medic to not be as accommodating as possible to an internal guest. I imagine Kokuo's seal looks something like an infinite labyrinth of twisting stone tunnels, like a piece of swiss cheese with occasional skylights and little pockets of mossy growth, wiffs of steam floating through from the gobi to keep everything moist and lush.


	52. Definition 5-5

August 22, 13 AK 

It had turned out Sensei had actually prepared a curriculum in advance just in case something happened. It was a little unnerving at first, and rather made Sasuke question how ‘accidental’ the whole encounter with the jinchuuriki had been, save that it wasn’t _one_ plan, but nearly a dozen, all neatly charted out depending on how well each of them had progressed in various skills. 

There were a nearly insane number of flowcharts and long tables of figures in the notebooks Fovea had shown them, covering everything from the specific techniques their Jounin Sensei had wanted them to master to the food they should be eating, including specific weights of grains and protein with recipes attached. Mostly it was self-study, practicing techniques to boost their elemental affinities and make the jutsu they knew stronger; the rest was teamwork exercises and suggested codes for them to memorize or invent.

The curriculum was surprisingly a little more reasonable than what they were used to, since they were all at a decent level of physical conditioning after three months with Hiroki; their substitute instructor however was completely insane. 

“Okay, so, now just do the thing with the thing and then you’re done!” 

The purple haired girl gnawing on a stick of dango was probably the most unhelpful person Sasuke had ever met. If he wasn’t reasonably sure that she was one of Hiroki’s assorted lovers he would have wondered if she wasn’t deliberately trying to obstruct their progress with her inane comments and visible disinterest. As it was she was _still_ unhelpful, but presumably entirely by accident which was honestly somehow even worse. 

“Do you mean channel the lightning chakra down the sword?” 

The barely decent kunoichi nodded distractedly and waved her hand indifferently, as if the answer should be obvious to anyone who was paying attention. 

“Yeah, just, you know, try to be less terrible at it this time.” 

He let his shoulders slump in resigned acknowledgment and pushed a lock of sweaty hair off his forehead. Seeing as how he had nearly electrocuted himself almost a dozen times trying to get a handle on the maneuver, that wasn’t setting the bar very high. The young Uchiha raised his gaze to the heavens, which were currently mocking his despondent mood by being a rather nice shade of blue which reminded him of Naruto’s eyes for some reason, and prayed for release from this torment.

“Anko-chan, dearest dagger in my back, you said you knew how to teach.”

Sasuke jolted bolt upright, looking for the source of the familiar voice.

“Sensei!” 

At his surprised shout Naruto and Sakura stopped sparring and ran over to them. 

Hiroki looked rather worse for wear; his cousin had always been pale but now the Jounin was bordering on pallid. Still, despite the nearly green tinge to his skin, he was smiling tiredly all the same. 

“Hello sweet students. I’m sorry I’ve been indisposed for so long. It took… somewhat longer to accommodate my new partner than I had thought. I’m afraid I’m still not at peak condition, but I can at least relieve dear Anko from the… arduous task of keeping an eye on you.” 

The Special Jounin frowned aggressively and stepped in close to their masked instructor.

 “And what’s that supposed to mean then?” 

Sasuke rolled his eyes as the older Uchiha tried to backpedal. 

“Nothing dear one, nothing; it’s just that you-” 

“ _Yes_?”

The younger Uchiha was never more pleased to be free of the tangling influence of a girlfriend as when he had to watch his cousin deal with irate females. Though watching his relative start to crumple into a compliant puddle as Anko threatened him with a kunai and significantly more breathy, chest-heaving motions that should be appropriate in a public setting _was_ entertaining, he had to admit. 

Eventually though, he had to break it up. He was getting worried about the oddly intense looks Sakura was shifting between their trenchcoated temporary instructor and his own person. It wouldn’t do to give her ideas. 

“Sensei when did you get out of the hospital?” 

“ _-yes Anko-sama, this lowly worm-_ eh?” 

Sensei blinked around his girlfriend to appear slightly behind the Genin. 

“Ah, yes, just an hour ago. Tsunade-hime was quite irritated that we somehow managed to turn a second C-rank into an A-rank encounter. But worry not; your Sensei is ready for action once more!” 

The cheerful proclamation and pose was given lie as Hiroki began to cough excessively, and Sasuke’s brows wrinkled slightly with concern as he caught the unmistakable scent of blood when the Jounin covered his mouth, faint drops of crimson seeping into the wraps around his fingers. 

“Mah, well, maybe in a week or so… but that’s okay, and do you know why?” 

Sakura raised her hand excitedly, smile only slightly forced as she tried to remain supportive despite their teacher’s dishevelment. 

“The Chunin Exams are here!” 

He and Naruto perked up at the mention of the promotion opportunity, glancing at Sensei for confirmation. The Jounin brought out a trio of forms with a little flourish, spreading them like a fan for the Genin to inspect, an array of fireworks going off behind him, prompting Sasuke and his teammates to dispel the genjutsu. He still didn’t know how his teacher managed to cast them without any visible trace. 

“Yes indeed. And, if you all are willing, I think your skills have matured quite well over the last three months. I submitted your names for consideration, and I have the forms right here for you.” 

They each grabbed a page out of Sensei’s clean white bandaged hands and Sasuke scanned the sheet quickly with his Sharingan. Standard legal waiver, nothing to worry about. The masked Jounin let out a small noise before popping back over to Anko, who was making a very scary face and almost fellating a kunai. 

“Right, well, I’ll let you munchkins think it over tonight, and if you’re still interested in the morning we can do a last check up before you submit them the day after tomorrow. _Yes Anko-sama, I’m sorry, please forgive this worm…_ ” 

Sasuke stared after the retreating back of the older ninja, face set into a determinedly blank expression as he edited certain parts of the past few minutes out of his memory for his own safety.  

“Right. Well, I suppose we’ll see each other tomorrow morning then.” 

With a wave to his teammates he set off to find some place quiet to think and meditate.  

He had only been wandering the village idly for about twenty minutes when his Naruto-senses started tingling, distracting his attention away from bored observation of all the oddly dressed people passing by in the street below and idle thoughts of visiting Saiko. Sasuke couldn’t quite explain it, but he had started to notice that whenever the blond idiot was in dire peril he would feel an odd prickling in the base of his skull. He had a sneaking suspicion that it was some sort of hidden seal left behind by Sensei, but he hadn’t managed to find anything when he last searched his entire body for any marks that might have been a fuin, still wary of Sensei’s initial suggestion that they shave their hair off. At any rate, it was a useful thing, seeing as even though Naruto had become more competent in leaps and bounds in recent months the orange-wearing numbskull somehow managed to stumble into more trouble than a blind goat in a meat grinder factory.

The tree next to the road provided a good vantage to assess the situation which… hmm. Was his Naruto-sense malfunctioning? The blond was growling at a pair of Suna Genin, one of whom was dressed in a rather stupid catsuit and apparently threatening- oh. That would be why he was alerted then; Konohamaru was one of Naruto’s friends, and nothing ever worked Naruto up like a threat to one of his few precious people. 

He tsked under his breath and rolled his eyes in frustration. This had international incident written all over it, and as per usual, it was up to him to defuse the situation his more hot-headed teammates had gotten themselves into. Though seeing Sakura just a step behind Naruto made him rather disappointed in the girl. She was supposed to be the smart one, after all. 

The oddly dressed Suna-nin dropped Konohamaru with a little yelp of pain as Sasuke’s thrown pebble hit the foreigner's wrist. As the kid was distracted looking towards where the stone had come from he executed a rapid Shunshin to place himself right behind his orange teammate. 

Game faces on. 

He threw a companionable arm over Naruto’s shoulder and leaned in, giving the Suna-nin a heavy-lidded stare. 

“Ne, Naruto, these twerps bothering you?” 

The blond paused for a moment before giving him a wide smile in return, showing off his abnormally sharp canines. 

“They’re foreign! That means I can eat them, right?” 

Sakura recovered admirably from her earlier anger and sniffed dismissively while flipping her hair, shooting the girl with the four ponytails a venomous look and covering her mouth with a delicate hand, the very picture of a noblewoman condescending to her lessers. 

“Now Naruto, you know better than to eat something you found on the street. Who knows where they’ve been?” 

The boy in (was that makeup? Gay.) growled and pulled the odd, wrapped bundle off his back, thumping it heavily onto the ground. 

“You think you can make fun of me?!” 

“Kankuro. Shut up or I’ll kill you.” 

All the Genin turned towards the new voice, coming from the tree Sasuke had been in not a moment ago. Another Suna-nin hung there, a massive gourd on his back, regarding them all with an apathetic expression. Despite the apparent disinterest Sasuke could detect the tickle of killing intent in the air, and he could feel the slight pressure of chakra wafting off the younger boy even down on the street. 

Naruto grew very still under his arm, turning to face the newcomer head on. The blond took a deep breath through his nose and let his eyes close slightly, mouth slightly open to taste the air. Sasuke slowly shifted position to leave his sword free to draw if he got the signal while his teammate spoke slowly, a thoughtful lilt in his tone.

“You smell like blood, and sand, and _lonely_.”

Naruto’s eyes widened and Sasuke noted the pupil had elongated into a slit. Double plus not good.

“Who do you serve?”

That was the code phrase for another jinchuuriki, and both Sasuke and Sakura slid into ready positions behind their center, studying the small redhead intently. 

The Suna jinchuuriki merely stared back impassively for a moment before he disappeared in a swirl of sand to emerge next to the other foreign Genin. 

“Temari, Kankuro, we’re leaving.” 

“Wait.” 

The boy paused at Sasuke’s word, merely regarding the Uchiha without a hint of question in his expression. 

“What’s your name?” 

For a second it seemed as if he wouldn’t get a proper answer, before the redhead nodded slowly. 

“Gaara, of the Desert. And you?” 

Sasuke’s eyes narrowed, considering, before he smiled thinly back. 

“Uchiha Sasuke. I look forward to seeing you in the Exams.” 

Without another word, the other trio vanished into the blur of a body-flicker, and Sasuke felt his shoulders slump just a hair as he swept a red-eyed glance over the nearby rooftops. The act had worked, probably, but... _Shit_. 

“Who _does_ he hold?” 

Sakura spoke quietly as she moved up right next to the blond and raven, still in a ready mode in case they came back. Naruto continued to stare in the direction the Suna-nin had disappeared, breathing slightly heavily, and gaze set in the vague and unfocused expression that meant he was communicating with the Kyuubi. 

“I think the Ichibi. Fuzzy thinks so too. The Tanuki was good at controlling sand.” -a low bass growl rumbled in the air for a second as the orange ninja exhaled and uncrooked his back from the feral slouch- “He thinks Gaara’s Seal might be weak. There was some leakage; could you feel it? And the eyes, and the gourd… a _lot_ of leakage.” 

Sakura and Sasuke exchanged a glance before he spoke up. 

“Could you beat him?” 

Naruto hummed for a moment, and Sasuke noticed that the blue eyes had gone back to normal. Eventually the blond nodded, confident, even though uncertain. 

“Yeah. Wind can cut through anything. So long as we weren’t ambushed. But we probably shouldn’t try. That kid smelled like old blood, and a lot of it. Some of the biju are angrier than others, and if Gaara’s Seal is letting so much leak through there’s a chance he can’t stop listening to the Ichibi. He might be… unstable.”  

Sasuke met the other boy’s gaze unflinchingly, a slight crease of his brows the only indicator of the turmoil he was feeling. Naruto frowned reflectively, mirroring his mood of troubled concern. 

“We shouldn’t try to meet him in the exams, even if we have good matchups against him.” -he frowned thoughtfully- “It’s actually a little worrying that they sent their jinchuuriki out of the village for a Genin exam.” 

Sakura chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully, hand sliding into her sleeves to stroke over her hidden tessen. Sasuke wouldn’t admit it, but he would have dearly liked to hold onto his sword as well. 

“We should tell Sensei. He might know more. At the very least he can give us some advice for how to handle it.”

 

.           .           .

 

A/N: Anko is a naughty girl. Though only Hiroki will be punished. 

I really like feral Narutos, but in this case, it is merely an act. Intimidation is an extremely important part of ninja life, and pretending to be a little violent and a little crazy serves the dual purposes of scaring away some people and making the rest underestimate you.


	53. Definition 5.6

Hiroki had been suitably perturbed by their warning but had little in the way of advice to offer that they hadn’t already thought of. One comfort was the incredible size of the applicant pool this year; more than 50 teams were participating, so the odds of their running into the foreign jinchuuriki was minimal. 

The one thing Hiroki had been able to give them was an emergency signal; a seal they could push their chakra through to summon the Jounin to help them out if things got too crazy. 

So far, it was looking good for their chances though. 

Sasuke gave the cluster of children outside the door an unimpressed look as he and his team slid past. That was… honestly pathetic. There wasn’t even any sort of disorientation aspect in the genjutsu over the room number; the other Genin would have been as easily fooled by someone sticking a piece of paper over the sign. 

Well, less competition for Team 7 at least. The actual testing room was full to bursting already, and as they moved inside another team of Leaf ninja moved to intercept. 

“Hey Kiba, Shino. Hi Hinata.”

Sasuke glanced at Naruto at the last, noting the slight change in tone. Was the blond blushing? A little, maybe. 

He looked at the Hyuuga girl appraisingly, noting that she seemed a bit red as well. 

Huh. Well, Naruto could certainly do worse, he supposed. Hinata was rather pretty, even if her hairstyle was sort of weird. He staunchly ignored the very slight twinge in his stomach which was definitely caused by the poisons he had been testing yesterday. 

He found himself gravitating towards the Aburame; Shino was quiet, and a lot less draining to be around compared to Kiba, who had still apparently never learned how to stop yapping. He exchanged a nod with the bug-nin, after which there was no further need to talk. 

Sakura twitched in his direction, and he quickly sidestepped the oncoming Yamanaka heiress, Ino. He gave Shikamaru and Chouji quick looks of assessment as they wandered over, and Sasuke was perhaps very slightly disappointed to note that they didn’t really look any different than when their class had graduated the academy almost 4 months ago.

“Oooh! Sasuke-kun, your mask is so cool!” 

He was entirely thankful that the broad folds of the fabric mask covered his small grimace at Ino’s squealed words. He was even more thankful when Sakura casually hip-checked the other kunoichi out of his immediate bubble of space. 

“Sasuke is _mine_ ; I don’t want you sniffing around my team.” 

The Uchiha smirked, expression hidden by his shemagh. The loosely wrapped cloth served entirely practical purposes of course, and the fact that he thought it looked cool was a distant second. Having something to cover his mouth and nose was essential when dealing with powdered poisons, and it could be used to hide a rebreather as well. It also served some of the same purposes as Hiroki’s mask, keeping his identity more hidden. Just because most people already knew who he was didn’t mean he had to trumpet it around. 

“You guys should keep it down; you’re attracting a lot of attention.” 

The older Genin that wandered up was odd looking, with white hair and a pair of glasses. What sort of ninja wore _actual_ glasses? Aburame wore sunglasses because of photosensitivity, but they could manage well enough without them. If this guy honestly needed glasses to see properly… 

Sasuke blinked on his Sharingan and scanned over the crowd of Genin in the room with eyes half-lidded to conceal the activation, looking for any more anomalies.  

He hummed under his breath speculatively. There were some strong people here, but mostly because they looked older, which didn’t say much for their actual skill levels. As his red gaze traveled over the boy, now introduced as Kabuto, he frowned minutely. The way the kid moved was… off somehow; too smooth. Maybe the glasses were a feint. 

“I’ve got some info cards, if you’d like to check out the competition?”

He caught the glance Sakura sent his way and turned his attention more tightly onto the older Genin. Info like that wasn’t particularly easy to come by, and more, wasn’t the sort of thing someone would normally be flashing in the middle of a crowd of potential hostiles. But how good was Kabuto’s intel? 

“Do you have a card for Gaara of the Desert?” 

“Sure do! Let’s see… hmm, I don’t have much on him; looks like he’s completed 8 C-ranks and, woah! A B-rank as a Genin? Apparently, he’s completed every mission without getting a scratch.” 

Sasuke’s lips quirked down behind the mask. That wasn’t good. A Jinchuriki with some sort of defensive ability? Well, he’d started to get a better handle on the lightning sword technique, and Naruto always had his wind… Sakura would be the weak link, but she was fast and flexible and pretty good with genjutsu already; she’d be able to take care of herself. 

“Do you have one for Sasuke?” 

His attention flickered back to Ino with building irritation but the insipid blonde didn’t notice. Kabuto hummed and riffled through his cards. 

“Oh! I do. Okay; rookie of the year for his graduating class, holder of the Sharingan bloodline which he’s supposedly able to use at level 2, and- Whoa! An A-rank mission _and_ a B-rank mission?! Who are your teammates?” 

How did some random Genin know that? Sasuke’s eyes flicked back on and shot a momentary illusion at Naruto, who twitched slightly at the suggestion before laughing loudly and waving his hands in the air while moving towards Kabuto, who had pulled two more cards. 

“Ahh man! You’re making it sound like we’re some crazy awesome guys; it wasn’t even that big a deal- oops!” 

While everyone was distracted by his blond teammate, Sakura was getting more detailed instructions via Sasuke’s genjutsu. One of Naruto’s errant hands knocked into the stack of info cards, sending the pile to the ground, and while he tried to ‘help’ Kabuto collect them all again, Sakura flicked out a few chakra strings and snagged the three cards with Team 7’s information. 

“Quiet down you lot!” 

Sasuke pulled behind his squadmates as the proctors finally decided to intervene. Five minutes in and he was already starting to get edgy from all the people nearby; this exam was starting to become a drag. 

They were assigned random seats, and the test began.

A written test? Seriously? What were they, 5?  

He skimmed over the questions quickly, then frowned.  

These were… stupid. And hard. Stupidly hard. Who care what precise angle you threw a shuriken at? No one did that sort of math in the field, it was all instinct and muscle memory. 

The raven-haired boy’s attention drifted back to his kunoichi teammate, and he noticed she was looking at the test with a thoughtful expression, but not as if she was attempting to puzzle out the questions. She looked up and met his eyes, then casually surveyed the assembled test takers. He followed her shift of attention and noticed a few of his fellow Genin were already writing furiously. 

How… plants. Of course, it was a test of their information gathering skills. Hmm, maybe that Kabuto guy had been a test too...

He sighed and slid into a lazy posture, eyes half shut as he turned on his Sharingan and started copying one of the Chunin three rows ahead. He was finished in about three minutes, and he shifted his attention over to Naruto. 

Sasuke’s eyebrows lifted fractionally in surprise. Huh, the knucklehead had already answered all the questions, and now he was… whispering quietly to Hinata? 

The voluminous grey mask he was wearing was pulling overtime today, hiding the very faintly irritated pursing of his lips as he watched his teammate shamelessly consort with the enemy. 

The hour passed in silence save for the occasional cough or dropped pencil. A few teams were caught cheating (pathetic) before the tenth question was unveiled. 

“If you fail this question, you will be failed from the exam and never allowed to retake it!” 

He wanted to laugh in the proctor’s face. The idea that some foreign village would give Konoha the power to permanently ban their students from further exams was inane. And it wasn’t like rank was the key determiner of skill or power; Maito Dai had been a Genin, and held off the combined Seven Swordsmen for several minutes entirely on his own. It would be perhaps somewhat embarrassing to achieve all of his ambitions and still only be a Genin, sure, but nothing more. 

“You pass!” 

Oh, wait, what? The Uchiha had been so lost in his contemplation of violent, glorious, murder that he had completely missed whatever had been going on. Blah, blah, blah, willingness to commit, blah, blah, life on the line, blah, blah, something, something, Will of Fire; were they done with the test or not? Maybe this was the true, _secret_ test, to see if they could keep listening to Mr Scarhead without yawning or falling asleep. 

He blinked and looked around the room, absently noting that at least half of those participating had been disqualified. Oh. Oh wow. Okay, so no, there were some applicants that were genuinely just that pathetic. _Wow_. No wonder Sensei had signed them up, this was probably going to be a total cakewalk aside from the few outliers like that Gaara kid. 

The door swung open with a bang and a busty Inuzuka with a trio of dogs behind her surveyed the class, bright red fang marks on her cheeks stretching as she smiled crookedly. 

“I’m Inuzuka Hana, and I’ll be the proctor of the second stage. Follow me.”

 

.           .           .

 

A/N: So the last C-rank was not technically increased in rating because what happened wasn't part of the mission itself, but they got extra pay anyway and that needed to be excused somehow so it was listed as a B-rank.

Silly Morino; psychological tricks don't work on the already horribly, horribly traumatized!

Little shorter tonight, but that just means the finale tomorrow will be even bigger!


	54. Definition 5.7

Somehow, Sasuke was not surprised to find that they were going to be completing the second stage inside the Forest of Death. Sensei really was simultaneously the best and the worst. Training Ground 44 was an ass and a half, but at least Team 7 had a passing familiarity with the hazards already. 

“You will each be given a scroll; yin, yang, or wuji. You need all three scrolls to pass to the finals. How you get them is your own business. You’ll all need to sign these death waivers before entering the Forest; Konoha won’t be held responsible for what happens to you inside.” 

There had been a clause like that in their applications; having them sign another waiver was just a fear tactic, and not a very creative one at that. Well, look underneath the underneath and all that, psychological warfare was a standard tactic for shinobi. Sasuke went back to watching the other Genin, trusting his teammates to pay attention to the proctors while he made sure none of the competition got any ideas about taking them out early. 

When their turn came Naruto took the scroll and tucked it into the pouch of his orange jacket. It wouldn’t be stolen from a storage seal built into his clothes, that was for sure. Once all of the assembled Genin teams had been similarly equipped they were all led to different entry points around the Forest before being let inside the fence by the Chunin Proctors. 

Immediately he turned to his teammates. 

“Plan?” 

Naruto was nominally in charge, not having had a chance to lead a mission before the exams. The blond scanned the somewhat familiar deep purple shadows of the Forest thoughtfully for a second before replying. 

“I think we should head straight for the tower. We might be able to ambush another team on the way; if so, great, if not then we’ll try and get a full set of scrolls from another team coming to turn them in. Everyone that finishes should already be a little tired, so they’d be safer targets than trying to find another pair of teams to fight, especially since we wouldn’t even know if they had the right scrolls.” 

Sakura hummed and nodded in agreement. 

“What scroll did we get?” 

“Yin.” 

The white banded scroll twirled around Naruto’s fingers for a second before disappearing back into his pocket. Sasuke grunted an affirmative as well. 

“Clone perimeter?” 

The foxy Genin gave him a wide smile in return. 

“You know it.” 

They had only been moving for about ten minutes when something prickled at the edge of his awareness. Naruto must have felt it too, because he waved a hand to call a halt to their progress. 

“Sorry guys, I gotta take a leak. Gimme a second.” 

He tracked his teammate as the boy disappeared into the underbrush, noting the single finger held out to the side when the boy waved. Only one enemy. This shouldn’t be hard. 

Perhaps 30 seconds had passed before someone walked out of the bushes. They looked like Naruto, but Sasuke’s nascent chakra sensing wasn’t twigging onto the same feeling of banked furnace warmth that the blond usually generated. 

His Sharingan activated, and he locked onto the eyes of the surprised Naruto imitator, planting a small genjutsu as he inspected the fake. A simple transformation technique. Unimpressive.  

It was Sakura who took down the interloper however, a causal step forward turning into a sweeping kick which transitioned fluidly into a submission hold with the bladed edge of a fan held under the imposter’s throat. The Henge dispelled with a puff of chakra smoke to reveal a sweating Rain Genin. 

Naruto emerged from the bushes a moment later, bits of rope falling off his arms as he cracked his back. 

“Oh good, I knew you could handle it. Hi there Rain-san!”

Sasuke moved to stand behind his teammate as the blond dropped into a crouch, balanced on the balls of his feet and sharp smile on full force. Sakura adjusted the angle of her fan slightly to force the Rain-nin to keep his eyes locked on the Uchiha’s Sharingan, and Sasuke started to layer the basic Hypnosis illusion over and over as Naruto spoke. 

“You were pretty clever to think up a plan like that. Probably hoping to figure out who had the scroll, right? I know that’s what I would do, and you look like a pretty clever guy, you know? Such a clever little ninja, to try and scout out the competition… So many scrolls to keep track of as well, one two three, and who knows where they all are? Where _is_ that pesky scroll anyway, do you remember? Who was it that had it; it wasn’t you, was it?” 

The foreign ninja’s eyes were starting to glaze over as the genjutsu settled in, and he shook his head slowly as Naruto asked his questions. 

“Of course not, wouldn’t want to put it in harm’s way, a clever guy like you, no, you’d leave the scroll with your team, wouldn’t you? Safer that way, and you can always go back and get it later, right? But, where was your team, do you remember? They need you to come back now that you’ve got the scroll. You did it! Good job, well done, now you just need to bring the scroll back to them, right? Where are they, can you tell me? We’ll help you back.” 

The captive Genin twitched slightly, and a brief expression of confusion passed over the part of his face visible above the rebreather. Naruto tutted gently and smoothed away the worry with a hand through the Rain-nin’s hair, giving Sasuke a glance at the momentary weakening of the genjutsu. The raven frowned and pushed a little more chakra into it, weaving additional layers of compulsion and compliance. 

“No, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry, you’re doing fine. Everything is going to be alright, so don’t you worry about a thing, okay? We’ll take care of everything, we’ll help you get the scroll back to your team, you just need to tell us where they are, alright?” 

The faint twitches subsided and the Rain Genin spoke in a slow, croaking voice. 

“...three miles… east… fallen log…” 

Naruto smiled again, knife-sharp and satisfied as he pulled up from the squat. Sasuke’s eye contact was broken for a second, and the enemy Genin jerked, slightly, once.  

Sakura must have been feeling a little more on edge than she let on, because that small flinch was enough to spook her into slitting the prisoner’s throat, releasing a veritable torrent of red which swiftly turned the ground to a syrupy mud. The pink haired girl gave a soft sound of distressed disgust as she hopped back a few steps, keeping her body away from the blood, an action mirrored by the rest of the team a moment later. You never know when someone might have boobytrapped their own body. 

Naruto frowned, face pinching into a dispirited and slightly nauseous line as he looked away from the body. 

“I was going to bring him with us. We could have used him as a hostage.” 

Sasuke grimaced and Sakura simply shifted uneasily and muttered a soft apology, already trying to distract herself from the mess by preparing to move out. Their blond teammate simply glanced back at the corpse a final time with an unhappily somber twist to his expression before making a clone to search the pockets. It was unlikely that the other ninja had been lying, but not impossible, and it would be a dumb mistake to lose a scroll simply because they were squeamish.

 

.           .           .

 

 A/N: Yeah, Team 7 have not yet been sculpted into perfect assassins, and the little Rain genin wasn't even really a threat, if everything had gone according to plan they probably would have tied them up, broken a couple fingers, and left them behind. You need fingers for handsigns, so it would take the rain team out of the competition without killing them. In theory. But shit happens.

This block didn't split well, so this chapter is pretty short while the next is quite long. It'll be up in a sec, no worries.


	55. Definition 5.8

Half an hour later, and one wuji scroll heavier, they were back on track towards the center of the training ground. The rest of the Rain team hadn’t put up much of a fight, and so far, everything was looking good. 

As they landed on the next branch Naruto suddenly froze, attention abruptly focused in a direction off to the side of their path. Sasuke landed next to him on the branch and Sakura perched a few meters higher up on the tree. 

“What is it?” 

The Uzumaki was twitching slightly as if watching things they couldn’t see, taking deep sniffs of the still air. 

“Something big. Clones- Closer. Closer! DOWN!” 

Team 7 dropped flat to the wood of the tree, and Sasuke clung to the surface using his whole body’s chakra. A second later a huge rush of air surged through the trees, tugging at their clothes and almost tearing him loose from the rough bark. A few of the smaller branches snapped off entirely, despite being themselves more than a meter thick. 

As quickly as it had come the wind died down. Jutsu. Powerful. Far too powerful for Genin, save maybe for the other Jinchuriki. 

As soon as the gale abated he leapt to a different tree, putting his team squarely inside his field of view as he activated his Sharingan again. The drain of constantly using his eyes was starting to become noticeable, but so long as they could get away or end the fight quickly there shouldn’t be any problems. 

There! 

A figure blurred out of the darkness to stand on the branch across from Sasuke and his team. Fast. _Jounin_ fast. Grass headband- a ringer? Why from _Grass_? Androgynous appearance; not someone he recognized from the Bingo Book. This was starting to look very _very_ bad. 

“Ah, the Sharingan I see! Such a fascinating technique that, isn’t it Sasuke-kun? But how good are you with it I wonder?” 

Naruto growled, a terrifying sound redolent with deep bass notes as he released a surge of clones, and the battle was on. 

If it wasn’t for the Sharingan, they would never have been able to fight this well. It wasn’t a criticism at this point either, merely a fact which they took advantage of to maximum effect. Naruto was a brawler, pure and simple. The blond was a tank, and a jutsu powerhouse. His taijutsu style was wild and heavy, and didn’t lend itself well to cooperative effort. On top of that, the orange ninja simply wasn’t very good at keeping track of lots of things. Sasuke wouldn’t call Naruto stupid, but more cerebral fighting styles were simply not part of the Uzumaki’s repertoire. 

This suited the Uchiha just fine. As a swarm of Narutos restricted the enemy’s movement, Sasuke rapidly positioned himself before launching a Grand Fireball. In the wake of the plume of flame Sakura dropped down like a hammer, fist pulled back and practically bursting with contained chakra. With the Grass-nin confused and injured she should have a clear shot for the slower attack, which would probably end the fight conclusively, if the fire hadn’t done the trick.

The smoke cleared with all the speed of a glacier as his Sharingan recorded everything happening in slow motion. Naruto was preparing another lot of clones, fingers already settling into the weird seal he used. Sakura looked like an avenging angel, hair streaming behind her in the wind of her fall, and fist beginning to swing towards the Grass-nin’s head while Sasuke ducked under the enemy’s field of view, sword sliding from its sheathe as he did to bisect in tandem with the kunoichi’s decapitating strike. 

It happened so fast that his eyes didn’t even have time to warn him. The Grass-nin looked charred, and slightly melted from the heat of the Grand Fireball, but underneath the drooping skin was another layer, fresh and white as a slug’s underbelly. A hand shot from the peeling flesh, grabbing Sakura around the throat and slamming her against the tree trunk as a foot buried itself in Sasuke’s gut and sent him flying away. 

“Disappointing. Nothing without your team. Don’t you know they’ll just stunt your growth?” 

Naruto bellowed in anger and leaped forward hard enough to shatter the wood behind him as he hurled himself towards their captured teammate, a mist of angry red chakra streaming in his wake. 

Sasuke could see it coming as he fell to his knees, gasping for air; see the gleam of steel emerging from the enemy’s mouth- 

He tried to scream, to warn- 

He couldn’t _breathe-_  

The sword flickered out, fast as a striking serpent, neatly removing the blond head from the attendant shoulders. 

What was- 

No, this could not- 

This had to be a genjutsu, it _had_ to be, this was a test from Sensei, this could not be real, there was no way Naruto could- 

The orange clad body thumped limply against the trunk of the tree before falling towards the ground, bright yellow ball clunking along after it, and his Sharingan recorded every single moment. 

ITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURTITHURT 

He couldn’t hear anything over the high-pitched noise in his ears, couldn’t taste anything over the acid on his tongue, couldn’t feel anything over the burning in his eyes and chest, couldn’t-couldn’t-couldn’t-couldn’t-couldn’t- 

There was a sizzling smell of ozone and the seal tag stuck just below his collarbone burst into purple flame from which Hiroki emerged. His Sensei’s eyes were already on, jittering from point to point, the blood on the sword, the fingers holding Sakura, the sick still dripping from Sasuke’s mouth, and he could see the exact moment the Jounin saw the- 

The older Uchiha stopped entirely, gaze fixed on the pile of orange, before homing unerringly on the enemy. 

“Orochimaru. You… **WHAT HAVE YOU DONE**?”

There was an abrupt shift in the air and Sasuke could feel his ears popping, sudden pressure disappearing before he had even registered it properly. There was a hole, as clean as if it was drawn with a stencil and at least a foot across, straight through Orochimaru’s torso. The hand holding a silently sobbing Sakura went limp, allowing her to scramble free as the mouth of the disfigured enemy distended unnaturally to allow a dripping copy to pry its way out. 

The inhumanly pale man stared at Sensei for a only second before disappearing in a blur. 

As for Sensei, the older Uchiha was staring down at his own arm, which had been partially consumed by metal. Sasuke finally got his breath back but he couldn’t make himself produce any noise beyond a thin whine of pain. 

Hiroki looked at him, and his breath petered out. 

It was like he was seeing double for a second, that odd moment of disorientation, like looking at a mirrored version of reality, something otherworldly and subtly _off_. One of his cousin’s eyes was the red of the Sharingan, though swirled with a design Sasuke had never seen before, but the other was a rippled purple. He could see himself reflected there, his own doujutsu mutated oddly as well, but more, there was an odd expression of pondering interest on the older Uchiha’s face as the single tomoe in the mutant eye slowly spun. 

“Fret not, Sasuke.” 

The hand which had transformed into some arcane weapon shifted back to normal flesh in a fluid ripple before extending towards the crumpled heap at the foot of the tree. 

Naruto’s body floated off the ground and reassembled itself, neck stitching back together and flesh mending as if the injury had never occurred. Something rose from the trunk of the tree, a rippling form of chakra that even his Sharingan couldn’t perceive, surrounding the blond for a second before spitting Naruto back out. His teammate was settled onto the branch next to him, and Sasuke almost felt like he couldn’t breathe again because the orange covered chest was rising and falling normally. 

With a jolt, Naruto sat up, arms flailing wildly in his baggy jacket. 

“ _SAKU..._ ra? Sasuke?” 

He didn’t understand what was happening, the feeling welling inside him, as he tried to make himself believe that his teammate was alive again. 

Sasuke didn’t even realize he was sobbing until after he was clutching onto Naruto like a life preserver, the blond coughing slightly awkwardly and patting him on the back as Sakura simply kept repeating the name ‘Naruto’ over and over again, while she encircled them both with her arms. 

It was at least a full minute before he felt comfortable relaxing his death grip on his recently un-deceased friend, and noticed that Sensei was simply standing and staring at all of them with the eerie purple eye and talking quietly to himself. 

“...is the best village, the only true village, the kindest village, the only people who are people are the people of Konoha, we are not mere hope but an ideal, we exist to create peace and ensure the safety of the children, you must see it, all that which threatens these ideals must be eliminated, death to traitors, purge the xeno, burn the heretic, all heretics deny the truth, self-evident and unalienable purpose, they dared, can’t you see it, my birthright completed in me, we will be complete, there is no other way, they will all **burn**.” 

Sakura was the one who spoke up, hiccupping slightly as tears still dripped off her face and onto the confused looking Naruto. 

“Sensei, Naruto was… He’s okay now?” 

It seemed to jolt the Jounin out of whatever trance he had fallen into, for he now looked at them as if he could actually see them rather than some figment of memory. 

“Of course Sakura. You are all mine. I would never allow someone take you from me. I won’t _let_ anyone take you from me. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep everyone safe. No one else will ever dare, no one else will ever try, no one else will ever think of it. They aren’t even part of Konoha; nothing will be lost when they burn.” 

Naruto struggled to his feet, pushing his team aside to face Hiroki. 

“That isn’t right! You can’t do that!” 

The eerie purple and red eyes simply blinked back impassively. 

“But I _can_ , Naruto. I can do _anything_ now.”  

Hiroki held up a hand, and thin tendrils of fire, water, earth, lightning, and wind sprung up around the spread digits, dissolving after a moment to be replaced by lines of ink, flowing like vines across the bandages below a growing sphere so black it looked like a hole in the world which rolled around the Jounin’s fingers like a toy before winking out with a faint pop. 

“Everything is so _easy_. I just need to think it, and my will becomes reality. _No one_ will gainsay me your protection.” 

“Sensei, you _shouldn’t_ do that! You can’t just hurt people because of something they might do! I’m fine, and so are Sasuke and Sakura.” 

The older ninja simply stared back impassively at the passionate boy, voice flat while the sun cast long shadows over his back the mismatched eyes glowing faintly in the gloom of his hood. 

“But you _weren’t_. You were dead. You were gone, _taken from me_ , forever. If a world can exist without those I love in it, then that world doesn’t deserve to exist.” 

“NO!” 

Naruto yelled the word loudly enough that it echoed through the trees. 

“Everyone has people they love, people they’ll miss, people they don’t want to lose! If you take their precious people away then you’re no better than they are!” 

Sasuke was shocked to see tears trailing down Hiroki’s face as the teen crumpled in on himself a hair, emotionless facade cracking as his cousin’s breath became unsteady. The Jounin gripped the sides of his head with clawed fingers, expression bordering on panic.

“I can’t, I can’t, I won’t lose you, I can’t do it again, and they want to _take_ you from me and I can’t let them, I won’t, I won’t, I’ll _burn it all_ before-” 

Team 7 almost fell off the branch in surprise as Naruto’s fist met Sensei’s face. The Jounin stumbled back a step, looking confused, before Naruto hit him again, a hard punch driving the air out of the teen’s lungs. 

Hiroki sat down with a thump, staring up at the irate blond boy with a dumbfounded expression as he slowly rubbed his bruised cheek. Sasuke took a deep breath and got up, joining Naruto so they both stood in front of their Sensei. His voice was unsteady, and still a little thick with tears, but his words were clear. 

“You haven’t lost us Sensei. We’re still here. But you can’t hate them just because you love us.” 

Sakura knelt down to offer the older Uchiha a hand up, smiling wetly. 

“They’re right Sensei. You have to have faith in us. We got knocked down, but we’ll get up again.” 

A very odd expression bent the Jounin’s mask, a sort of pained and incredulous smile, heavily tinted by something which might have been desperate hope. Naruto pulled on Hiroki’s and Sakura’s joined hands, hauling them both to their feet and nodding resolutely. 

“We’re Team 7, and we can change the world. We can make your dream of peace a reality Sensei, but we can’t do it by killing everyone else.” 

Sensei stared at them for a long moment; strange emotions chasing each other across his face before he eventually spoke in a quiet, tentative voice. 

“What if… what if I could make it so… so nobody had to die, unless they wanted to? What if I could- could change the rules of life, so it didn’t have to end in death?” 

Naruto seemed flummoxed, and Sasuke wasn’t feeling much better. Could someone really do that? 

That… it wouldn’t end hatred but… what if no one had to lose anyone, ever again? 

“And they wouldn’t get sick, or grow old, or…?” 

Sakura was the only one of the three Genin who appeared to be coherent enough to speak, and her question earned a slow nod from their teacher, face still glistening with tears. 

“No one would be bound by fate. No one would be forced to do anything simply because of the way things are.” 

Naruto spoke in a low and quiet voice, with a tone of longing that resonated deep in Sasuke’s heart. 

“That would be beautiful.” 

Sensei took a deep breath, and another, wiping his cheeks off with the back of his hands and nodding slowly. 

“Okay. Okay. I’m… I’m proud of you. All of you. I don’t think I could ask for better students.” 

Sasuke’s cousin took another long breath and nodded once more, visibly centering himself before looking back at them, setting sun giving his face a golden glow. 

“Thank you. Now, I have some things I still need to do before we can achieve that dream, so for now **_sleep_**.”

 

.           .           .

 

Sasuke blinked awake with a panicked scream bubbling in his chest. The noise was cut off abruptly as he glanced around the little clearing and he realized it had just been a nightmare. Naruto was sitting nearby, poking the embers of the fire with a stick while Sakura snoozed next to him, a few of her long magenta locks trailing over her face. 

After a moment to slow his rapid breathing, the raven-haired boy stood up and brushed the errant strands of hair behind the kunoichi’s ear before sitting down on the log next to his blond teammate. Naruto glanced up, face solemn, and gave him a short nod before turning back to the fire, expression distant.  

Sasuke simply sat next to the other boy in companionable silence for a long moment, letting his mind wander amid the twitching flames of the little campfire, ruminating on the emotions still lingering from the awful dream. 

“Naruto, do you ever think about what you’d want to do before you die?” 

His orange teammate blinked up at him in surprise, head cocked curiously. Naruto didn’t answer for a long moment, simply looking into the fire alongside him. 

“Not really.” -the Uzumaki gave a little half shrug- “I guess I don’t think about dying very much. I want to be Hokage. And, taste a bunch of different awesome ramen… and I think, it would be nice to have a family someday, you know?” 

Sasuke didn’t answer, still searching for shapes in the shifting orange tendrils of the fire. 

He had thought a _lot_ about his own death. It had always seemed like the most likely outcome if he ever had to fight Itachi. Oh, he might have made it mutual, but he had never held any delusions about being naturally more skilled in the ninja arts than his older brother. 

He sighed and hunched inwards a little, wrapping his arms around his chest and hugging them tight for warmth. Maybe it was just the dream, details already blurring in his head, but he felt…  

There were always reasons to put things off, to avoid the uncomfortable choice, always reasons to say, ‘maybe tomorrow’, until all your tomorrows were used up. And once the chance was lost, you could never get it back. 

“Naruto, would you… like to get some ramen some time? With me?” 

His teammate gave him a cheerful smile, sunny enough to warm Sasuke’s bones even in the chill night air, far more effective than the little fire could ever hope to be. 

“Of course! Once we’re done with this part of the exams we should all go out together!” 

The Uchiha sighed, running a hand through his hair and mustering up the strength to overcome the awkwardness he could already see looming on the horizon. 

“No, Naruto, not- not as a team. I meant… just, with me.” 

The Uzumaki’s mouth fell open as he stared at Sasuke, who huddled slightly into the folds of his shemagh to hide the tiny spots of color forming on his cheeks. Naruto eventually recovered, and chewed gently on his bottom lip, glancing away for a second before turning back, hands fiddling slightly with the ends of his hoodie’s sleeves. 

“You mean, like, a… a date?” 

Sasuke’s head twitched down in the barest suggestion of a nod. 

His teammates face burst into a massive flush as they avoided each other’s eyes. Naruto’s fiddling got even more energetic, as he tried to stammer out a reply, clearly nearly at a loss for words. 

“I- that is, I mean, it’s not that I don’t like you! But- well, we just-” 

Sasuke nodded smoothly, taking a deep breath and ignoring the slight pinching in his chest. It was better to know than to be forever wondering, forever pining for what might have been. He had asked, and been rejected, and that was _okay_. It might sting a little, but at least he knew for sure. 

“I see. Well, I’m sure you and Hinata will be very happy together. She’s a beautiful kunoichi, and her clan is very respectable-” 

Naruto waved his hands frantically back and forth to interrupt Sasuke’s acceptance speech, shooting a glance at their sleeping teammate before shuffling a little closer on the log, voice a furious whisper and face an even brighter red. 

“No, no, no, bastard! I didn’t say _no_ , it’s just- well, I sort of promised Hiroki-nii that I wouldn’t date until I made Chunin, and… well, it might be a little awkward while we were on the same team, you know?” 

Sasuke’s heart stopped in his chest as the blond’s words percolated through his head. Naruto still looked vaguely concussed as he leaned in a touch closer to the Uchiha. 

“I mean… you, like me? _Like_ me like me?” 

The raven’s flush spread higher up his cheeks and he shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. 

“I… I don’t know. I think so… I suppose; that’s why I wanted to… find out, you know? Isn’t that sort of the point of dating?” 

Naruto smiled a bit shyly and glanced away before looking back at him, grin bubbling up again to light up the whiskered face even though he seemed a little embarrassed and guilty. 

“It’s just- I guess, if we both made it to Chunin anyway, we wouldn’t always be taking missions together, and we could choose which missions we took so it didn’t interfere, and- well, I mean we’re both still kind of _young_ you know?, and I kind of like Hinata-chan too… but, you think she’s a good kunoichi? You like her?” 

Sasuke blinked slowly, mulling it over. 

...Yes, he did rather like Hinata. She wasn’t one of his fangirls, and that was a major mark in her favor right off the bat. She was demure, and soft spoken, talented from what he remembered of the academy, she came from a good family… Yes. He might not like her in _that_ way, not right now, but he could see that possibility existing in the future. 

He nodded slowly, and Naruto’s smile stretched even wider, bigger and brighter than ever. 

“Oh! Well, good. Maybe we could just have a little party after we’re done here then, get to know our classmates a little bit? And, you know, just, see how it goes.” 

Sasuke let out a long slow breath, feeling… clean, all the way down to his soul. He let his hand rest on the surface of the log next to Naruto’s, and if the very edges of their fingers touched a little bit, then, well, that was pretty okay. 

“You have to tell Sakura.”

 

.           .           .

END DEFINITION

.   .   .

 

A/N: Okay, now for the longer Author's note. 

**PLEASE DO NOT COMMENT ON HOW MUCH YOU LOATHE NARUSASU UNTIL AFTER TOMORROW WHEN THE EPILOGUE SPELLS OUT WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENS. _PLEASE_?**

Okay, so. Please note that Naruto and Sasuke are not actually in a ship! In fact, they have clearly stated that they  _can't_  be in a ship for at least a little while longer, and that really any kind of ship AT ALL would be kind of fucking weird since they are like, 12? What we have here is Sasuke informing Naruto of his potential interest and Naruto saying 'I am not entirely opposed to the idea'. They are not going to buck like funnies while waiting for the prelims in the central tower. Naruto IS NOT GAY and Sauske isn't really gay either; except for Naruto.

Most of the Complaints people have against NaruSasu, I totally agree with. Just wait one more day to see what happens, m'kay?

Anyway.

Tommorow you'll get a good bit of stuff because it doesn't make sense to break it up. Three chapters of Hue, and then the epilogue.

Hiroki awakening the Rinnegan is a result of three things: First, he finnaly got an EMS. He essentially re-triggered his mother's eye in the wake of Naruto's death, meaning he now had a close relative's MS in his socket. Second, He has saturated his body with Hashirama cells, as well as tissue and chakra samples from Naruto and Sasuke (remember those 'games' of biopsy?). Third, he actually has a fragment of the Jubi's chakra thanks to Kokuo. It wouldn't have been enough on it's own, but combined with everything else the conditions were met well enough for shit to happen.


	56. Hue 6.1

 [September 27, 13 AK](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8y-XpFnojI)

September 27, 13 AK

 Itachi sipped his tea quietly, showing no outward sign of the pleasure he took from even that simple act to his partner. In truth, he was quite enjoying being back in Konoha after so long spent wandering the Elemental Nations for Akatsuki. The quality of fare from this particular tea shop hadn’t declined at all in the years of his absence he was pleased to note, and the Hashirama trees were just as beautiful as ever, tall and pale and that lovely shade of green that no other tree quite matched. 

Sadly it was not to last, the treasured moment fleeing before duty’s call. He felt a tremor at the edge of his awareness as a few Jounin walked past, and shifted the angle of his head very slightly to indicate to Kisame that it was time to leave. 

For a moment it might have appeared that no one was following them, but Itachi’s instincts were still niggling at him that the danger was not yet gone. He had learned long ago to trust such feelings, and his faith was rewarded yet again when their path out of the village was intercepted by a tall masked figure on the river. 

“Lovely day, isn’t it? How have you been Itachi?” 

Itachi blinked placidly back at Kakashi and began to ready himself for combat, weight shifting ever so slightly on his feet in preparation for rapid movement. It would be difficult to end this before more reinforcements could be called than he and Kisame could be assured of handling without unnecessary casualties, but if he used Tsukuyomi then perhaps- 

“Oh goodness! Itachi-sama, what in heaven are you doing here? Hi Kakashi-sensei!” 

There was a sudden presence between Itachi and Kakashi, one which felt vaguely familiar, though he didn’t recognize it immediately. He was mildly surprised to find that he was surprised, for he hadn’t possessed the faintest inkling of the arrival’s immanence. 

The newcomer was lithe, and wearing an unzipped Jounin vest over a bare torso. A Konoha headband hung around his neck, just barely brushed by the tips of his long spiky black hair, and he was loosely clad in flowing pants ending just above bare feet. Every inch of visible skin was covered with thinly drawn lines of ink, seals crawling everywhere in a massive array, leaving only a small portion of the face clear of the climbing symbols. As the interloper spoke the opening of his mouth was accompanied by a faint wisp of steam, and Itachi could feel something odd in the deep and placid thrum of chakra oozing from his every pore.  There was an air about the face, something which resonated with the elder Uchiha; a certain angle to the cheekbones, a certain similarity in the stress lines, and that chakra… 

“Oh, but of course you don’t recognize me, it’s been years, hasn’t it? It’s me! Hiroki! Remember? You let me go?” 

Hiroki the Pariah? _Uchiha_ Hiroki? But, how… 

“Izanagi. Such a peculiar coincidence, I thought. But it seems fate had grander plans for me.” 

Itachi blanked for a moment, unable to process for a brief moment while he reevaluated his expectations, updating on new information. Another Uchiha had survived the Massacre? Where- ANBU probably. It was where the village tended to shove all of its dirty little secrets. A living Uchiha, one who _knew_ , who was loyal, would be a valuable asset, to be protected. Hiroki had only ever been someone he was peripherally aware of within the clan; another ‘prodigy’ though Itachi had never felt that his junior’s skill was quite as effortless as the Elder’s seemed to think. Loyal, a medic, not a threat. He had always assumed- he hadn’t _heard_ anything, afterwards, so- well. The boy has survived after all. He wasn’t sure what to feel about that. 

“Missed a spot, eh Itachi? That’s not like you.” 

The fond and wistful smile on the other Uchiha’s face was replaced by a look of intent interest as Hiroki inspected the large fishman. 

“Oh! You must be Hoshigaki-san then. Goodness me but you are a sizable hunk of man aren’t you?” 

Kisame appeared more amused than offended by the slightly flirtatious edge to the Jounin’s tone, and Itachi suppressed the urge to sigh. Hiroki the Muse as well, and likely more than _slightly_ cracked it would seem. 

He would need to act fast to salvage this. It wouldn’t do for his cover to be lost just when Akatsuki was starting to move. How to spin this though... 

“Hiroki. You finally made Jounin then. Though it seems as if you’re still hiding from reality.” 

The smile Hiroki offered in return was vague, wistful, and ever so faintly mad. 

“Hmm… no, I think I’m done running. Do you know what the absolutely best feeling in the world is? It’s not drugs or sex, not duty or honor, not even holding your firstborn child, though all those things feel nice.” 

Hiroki shifted his face upward to catch the sunlight, smile losing a touch of the mania to be replaced by simple pleasure. After a moment he glanced back down at the Akatsuki pair, gaze smoldering from the corner of his eye. 

“It’s the sudden removal of fear.” 

The shift from lackadaisical reminiscence to hyper focus was made more jarring by the shift in his cousin’s chakra. Itachi could hardly reign in his surprise at the sight of a Rinnegan sitting in the younger teen’s left eye socket. At his side, Kisame shifted nervously, jocular mood morphing into something more serious as they assessed the new threat. The motion caught their opponent’s attention, and the purple eye focused in, three aberrant tomoe drifting in counter-rotating circles around the pupil. 

“Well, I’m always eager to make new friends.” 

The transition was instantaneous, with no cues for his Sharingan to track before Hiroki was abruptly directly in front of Kisame, single Mangekyou spinning lazily as he spoke in a calm and fond tone. 

“You are my very best friend. You hold me dear above all other things. My hopes are your hopes, my dreams are your dreams, my values are your values, and nothing in this or any other world matters more to you than me.” 

His partner’s flat fish-eyes glazed over for a moment before he smiled, relaxing his stiff ready posture and releasing Samehada’s hilt. 

“Ahh, Hiroki-kun. It’s been a while hasn’t it? How’s the little one?” 

Itachi didn’t think he had ever seen a smile so genuinely relaxed and joyful on the face of any Uchiha, anywhere, ever. He rather imagined that the unlamented clan elders would be spinning in their graves at such an open and honest expression being shown in public. What would the village think? Probably that all Uchiha weren’t stuck-up, self-impressed assholes, and we wouldn’t want that, would we? Itachi noted, in a dim distant way, that he was in shock. 

“Saiko is doing wonderfully. She’s still just crawling, but she’s been trying to stand. Such a precious child.” -Hiroki turned his attention towards Itachi, doujutsu fading- “But we’re being rude. Itachi-sama, won’t you join us for some tea at the compound? It’s been so long since you’ve been home, you deserve a rest.” 

There was a nearly bone deep terror tingling down his spine at the completely casual way the other Uchiha had thrown everything out the window. _Kotoamatsukami_ , it had to be. Kisame had an entirely new set of memories now, a new life where his best and dearest friend had always been Uchiha Hiroki. There were only loyal Konoha ninja here, and he wasn’t sure how to respond to the sudden shift in threat. His fingers twitched beyond his control, a gesture which his cousin caught, and which elicited only a small, sad smile at the show of nerves. 

“It’s okay now. Everything will be okay. I told Sasuke everything, he understands. He forgives you, Itachi. Danzo is dead, the elders are gone, the clan is _growing_ again. You have a new cousin. You don’t need to worry anymore. You don’t need to fight. I’m stronger now than you could ever hope to be. I will deal with Akatsuki. I already know everything about them. You can rest.” 

Itachi was shaking, eyes darting around, trying to understand. He caught Kakashi’s gaze, and his fellow ANBU wasn’t looking at him with fear, or loathing, but pity. 

Did he know? Did _everyone_ know? His sacrifices, all for nothing. Sasuke- his brother wouldn’t kill him now, he’d have to _live_ with… everything. That wasn’t the deal. He was supposed to die, the clan was supposed to be avenged, honor satisfied with his ignominious end, so he could finally be _free_. 

He couldn’t breathe, the tightness in his chest was building, and though he was certain his face betrayed nothing the look of concern his cousin directed his way told him he wasn’t successful in hiding his distress. 

Firm arms wrapped around him, holding him tight and twisting away his chakra when he tried to flee, absorbing his attempts to strike out without a whisper of effort. 

“It’s okay, Itachi. Everything you’ve done, it was worth it. You were loyal, you were true, and now all that effort will be paid back to you. You have given up so much, you don’t need to give anything more.” 

The tingling warmth of medical chakra surged through him, brushing away the constriction in his chest like a warm breeze. As he took his first real breath in years, Itachi felt himself begin to cry.

 

 

.           .           .

 

A/N: Thus begins the end.

 Goodbye Kisame v1.0. You were kind of overpowered. Hello Kisame v2.0! You might be fun in bed.


	57. Hue 6.2

[December 3, 13 AK ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UprcpdwuwCg)

 

The heavy rain was falling in a steady beat upon the surface, but deep in the caverns beneath Ame the only sign of the torrent above was the moisture in the air and the pervasive chill that never really left. 

Despite his distance from the outside world Pain could feel the cold in his bones, the bones of the corpse he was still shackled to, the coffin of flesh that would barely heed his commands to which he remained bound despite his best efforts. The Deva Path was his true body of course, it had been for years, and if it weren’t for Konan’s tender care the meat would surely have worn away under his disdainful neglect. A wracking cough in the false self was ignored as he focused on the arrival of one of the few subordinates he actually trusted to some extent. 

The towering form of Hoshigaki Kisame strode into the meeting room, a smaller figure trailing behind with tasseled grass hat still dripping slightly from the rain. Even though Kisame was the much more visually impressive specimen Pain’s attention was drawn irrevocably to the smaller figure, for he could sense an unfamiliar chakra. He scanned the hunched figure dressed in Akatsuki robes with rippled eyes, ready to act in a moment if the Swordsman _had_ somehow been compromised. 

“Kisame. Who is this? Where is Itachi?” 

The massive fishman smiled brightly, something peculiarly genuine in the expression, and waved a hand towards the newcomer. 

“Ahh, well, Itachi decided he wanted to take some leave, spend some time with the family, you know? Health day and all that. But his cousin should fit right in. You’ve probably heard of him before; Uchiha Hiroki.” 

The grass hat was pulled off with a flourish to reveal a slimmer figure. It _looked_ like an Uchiha, the hair and eyes were right at least, but there was obviously something beyond that as well, for the skin was a mottled, shifting grey color. 

No, Pain realized as he looked closer, that wasn’t his skin, that was what was _on_ his skin; a constantly shifting and writhing mesh of microscopic characters and swirls and… Seals. His skin was practically _made_ from fuin. Who would do such a thing? Or, rather (he glanced at Sasori), who _could_ do such a thing? 

“Hello everyone! I’m Hiroki, commonly known as the Muse!” -he bowed politely- “Please take care of me.”

The Deva Path didn’t emote much, but if it did it would have been expressing displeased surprise and wariness. Kisame was trustworthy, but to bring a new recruit directly into their sanctum? This was beyond irregular, and approached dangerously insubordinate, though the irritation he felt was tempered slightly by confusion. 

“Ooh! I have presents for everyone!” 

He would have sighed if the body he used for these meetings actually breathed regularly. Madara often displayed the same sort of gleeful madness, and he had noted a distinct trend of insanity pairing with absurd levels of power. It would be problematic to remove Hiroki if that were so, particularly with all of those seals of unknown purpose. A large sack was pulled from nowhere, and the new Uchiha began to rifle through it with boisterous movements and occasional muffled thumps. 

“Let’s see… for Deidara-kun, I have some custom made explosive tags!” -the former Iwa-nin held the slip of paper at arm’s length, but seemed intrigued- “they have a protective seal on them so they won’t be destroyed in their own explosion! You can use ‘em over and over again!” 

Hiroki moved over to the crouched figure of Sasori and held out a small potted plant. 

“I got _you_ a clipping from a very special tree; I think you could probably use the wood for some pretty amazing things, and it grows really fast too!” 

An almost dancing spin took the Uchiha over to the other side of the room, and Kakuzu backed up warily. 

“For my new stringy friend, a spool of solid diamond! I wasn’t sure exactly how the Jiongu worked, if you ever took a day off from living inside the shell of your old body or whatever, so I figured you might like this to curl up on.” 

Pain blinked once, a completely unnecessary motion since the Deva Path’s eyes couldn’t get dry, but an appropriate one as there was now a large spool of the kind used for cables and wires sitting on the floor, glittering in the way only something made of about a cubic foot of diamond can. Kakuzu seemed to be completely devoid of the capacity to speak, and the leader of Akatsuki could hardly begrudge him that. 

“For Hidan I have- you’re... not Hidan.” 

It appeared that the newcomer didn’t know who _everyone_ was already, for he didn’t recognize Kakuzu’s current partner, Shishiki. The young Uchiha frowned for a second, looking between the oddly designed white teapot in his hands and Shishiki. 

“I had thought to see Hidan here; I made him a teapot from the skull of the High Priest of the Fire Temple… oh well. I suppose you can have it, mister…?” 

Shishiki hissed through the hole where his mouth used to be. Hiroki hummed back thoughtfully and set the skull-pot down, backing away slowly. 

“Right… ahh! For Konan, loveliest flower of finest paper, I have the complete Icha Icha Box Set, signed by Jiraiya himself. He wanted me to tell you that he thought Hanzo had killed all of you. So… Sorry about that. But, on that topic!” 

There was a slightly wet thump as the newest, least sane member of the global terrorist organization dropped a head shaped object at the foot of Pain’s dias. Head shaped was apparently an apt descriptor, for it did indeed seem to be a human head, old and slightly decayed, missing and eye and heavily scarred, but somehow familiar. 

“You might recognize this guy. His name was Danzo. He was running a secret ANBU division without the approval of the Hokage, and, if memory serves, he was responsible for the death of one of your teammates, wasn’t he?” 

The ninja formerly known as Nagato stilled, blood freezing in his veins. _That man_ had been there, had been at Hanzo’s shoulder when Yahiko died. He remembered that stiff, frowning face, wrapped in bandages, looking down at them as if their dreams were dirt beneath his foot. He had never thought to see Danzo again, never get the chance to completely avenge Yahiko, and seeing him dead brought an icy pleasure to his heart. That single action had just earned Hiroki quite a lot of good will. 

“Now, is Zetsu-chan around? I had a really special gift for him; where- there you are!” 

The sack clunked along the ground as it was drug along behind the fuin coated ninja, who reached in again to pull out several items as he settled in front of Madara’s vegetative abomination. 

“I wasn’t sure exactly what to get both of you, so I got three things! For White Zetsu; a pair of human leather shoes! I don’t know if you really wear shoes very much, but they should be good eating anyway.” 

The pale half of the dichromatic being exclaimed in childlike pleasure and snatched up the tanned piece of footwear, gnawing on it happily while the darker half shifted distrustfully. 

“For Black Zetsu, a mirror! I’ll just set it over here, you can grab it later. Oh, were they tasty shoes then?” 

White Zetsu had finished eating and was looking at the Uchiha eagerly, nodding and licking his lips while Black Zetsu blinked warily. 

“Well, I got one more present for the both of you to share, now… where did I… hmm… down here somewhere… aha!” 

Hiroki held aloft a small golden box, turning it slightly to call forth a shimmery glimmer, before gently tossing it towards the split creature. White Zetsu grabbed it out of the air, an expression of simple minded wonder on his face, even as Black Zetsu tried to stop him. 

There was a small popping noise of displaced air, and the box and being were gone. 

“Phew! Oh man, I was nervous that wouldn’t work!” 

Pain shifted the full attention of the Deva Path onto the young Uchiha, hand extended to push forth a wave of gravity, slamming him- Hiroki didn’t move, not even under the full pressure of Shinra Tensei. He simply smiled slightly sadly up at the nominal head of Akatsuki and shook his head, hair not even ruffled as the raw power of the Deva Path rolled off his skin like water off an umbrella. 

“That won’t work on me Nagato. Besides, there isn’t anything _anyone_ could do to get that thing back now. That was my Mugen Box. Infinite recursive sealing, for it seals itself inside itself. There isn’t any conceivable way to get outside, because there _isn't_ an outside. And now the world is just a little bit safer, because that eldritch abomination isn’t in it.” 

There was a barely articulate snarl of rage before an arm materialized inside Hiroki’s chest in a gout of scarlet blood. Madara was obviously furious at the loss of his lackey, but the impromptu stabbing barely fazed the younger Uchiha, whose head spun 180 degrees to face the masked ancient with a disturbing ratcheting noise. 

“Hello Obito.” 

Innumerable hands sprang from the slighter figure and clasped onto the secret leader of Akatsuki, holding tight. Pain could practically taste the shock as Madara’s phasing technique failed to protect him, the arms of his opponent almost cocooning the ancient to prevent escape. 

“Reality Anchors. One, and _only_ one, space time. But that isn’t important right now.” 

There was a gentle sucking sound and Hiroki’s forehead split, revealing a pure white eye. A moment later, a thin membrane withdrew from over the young Leaf ninja’s other eyes, revealing a crimson Sharingan, and a Rinnegan.  

Pain froze, stunned to his core at the sight of the legendary doujutsu in the head of another. How could anyone else have obtained the Sage’s eyes? _He_ was the child of prophecy, the one who would bring peace to the world; how could anyone else hope to achieve such a thing without the blessings of the Sage!? If- if his eyes weren’t special then… Hiroki spoke, smiling faintly and fondly all the while. 

“You are my very best friend. You hold me dear above all other things. My hopes are your hopes, my dreams are your dreams, my values are your values, and nothing in this or any other world matters more to you than me.” 

Madara twitched, fighting against the edict, but Nagato could see the moment even the elder Uchiha’s potent mental defenses failed. The figure relaxed in the grip of the hands clinging to him, which all quickly withdrew. 

“Hiroki! It’s been so long, how are you?” 

The voice from behind the mask was higher, and more cheerful, and a gloved hand removed the orange swirl in the next moment to reveal… a much younger looking Uchiha Madara than Pain would have expected. Hiroki merely smiled at his relative, compassionate and ever so slightly sad as he pulled the man into a hug. 

“Hey Obito. I’m doing good, but better now you’re here.” 

All three of the legendary doujutsu stared at the Deva Path over Madara(Obito?)’s shoulder, and Nagato could tell they were looking right at him, even through the corpse puppet. It was a sort of terrifying he had never felt before, a sense of inevitability, like watching a tsunami the size of a mountain coming towards you, but the Uchiha only smiled. There was a gentle pressure on the shoulder of his meat and his attention swung round to see Hiroki already there. 

“Don’t worry Nagato; everything is going to be alright.”

.           .           .

A/N: One thing I really like about Japanese; characters can have multiple meanings. Mugen means infinity, but the first character, Mu, means nothing (as in the name of the Kage).

Don't worry. Hiroki will fix everything for you. He loves you so.

> 


	58. Hue 6.3

[June 22, 15 AK](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5hEh9LiSzow) 

Kakashi rolled his shoulders in his new robes of office, trying to get the long white garment to settle more comfortably. He still hadn’t gotten used to wearing the cloak and hat of the Hokage, but fortunately he only really had to wear them for formal functions. 

He wasn’t sure that this really counted; it had been a somewhat fancy invitation admittedly, but then again, this was Hiroki, and that kid wouldn’t understand formality if he spent a week wearing its skin around like a coat. Although, speaking of clothes, his sole surviving student had been getting weirder in that department lately, nicely evidenced by his latest ensemble which bore a striking resemblance to priest’s robes. At least he wasn’t wearing a mask anymore, that had always been a little _extra_ creepy. Though the purple eye was still kind of weird. Although it looked more balanced tonight, with three rings of three tomoe slowly orbiting the pupil, whatever _that_ meant. 

Kakashi ran a hand under his hat and through his hair, sighing gently as he scratched at the back of his neck. He rolled his head back and stared up at the gleaming night sky, stars already starting to emerge from the waning twilight as the faint pinks turned to purples in the wake of the setting sun. 

Where had he gone wrong with that boy? 

No, check that, where _hadn't_ he gone wrong with that boy? Hiroki used to be such a sweet little Genin, so eager to please, always smiling (that creepy smile), but then… well, shit happens. Maybe if he had just paid them all a little bit more attention…  

“Sensei! You made it! I was wondering if you’d show; you’re always so busy with work.” 

The gangly Uchiha wrapped him in a massive hug, almost squeezing the breath from his lungs, a gesture Kakashi could only return with a gentle pat on the back. He still wasn’t very comfortable with more physical displays of affection, certainly not in a rather public space like this one. 

They pulled apart and the Rokudaime Hokage gave his former student a slightly awkward smile beneath his mask, and expression Hiroki returned much more genuinely, face practically glowing beneath the little horns (and when had that happened?) on his forehead. The boy (not such a boy any more) grabbed his hand and pulled him along to the wide blanket set up on the expansive lawn of the Uchiha main house backyard, where several people were already seated, talking quietly and sipping various liquors. 

He waved absently to Tsunade and she raised her saucer to him in silent toast, eyebrows quirked in smug self-satisfaction, before he was gently shoved between a blond and someone he didn’t recognize who had Uchiha dark hair and heavily scarred features. 

“Hi Kakashi-nii! You’re here for the moon viewing too?” 

The white haired Hokage smiled at Naruto, nodding agreeably before accepting a saucer of sake from Hiroki’s elegantly dressed Hyuuga brother-husband. Kakashi hadn’t quite gotten over the twinge of guilt he felt whenever he had to interact with his Sensei’s son, but the kid didn’t seem to mind and had turned out entirely all right besides. 

The last Uzumaki (though that might change soon given the little glances the Hyuuga heiress sitting nearby was giving him) never seemed to mind Kakashi’s awkwardness though, simply smiling big enough to split his face in two while pulling Sasuke, who was sitting on his far side, into a brief hug.  

“Cool! Hiroki-nii said it was going to be really special tonight. Ne, have you met Obito-nii?” 

Kakashi blinked at the unexpected name, sip of alcohol frozen on his lips. Had Hiroki produced another kid? It wouldn’t be too much of a surprise, (how many did that make, four?) but why that particular name? 

“Maa, Kakashi and I go way back. Though I was kind of an idiot back then.” 

The last Hatake felt a tremor run through him at the voice, so different but so familiar, the tone one he had heard a hundred times, now stretched and warped by age. He turned slowly to face the dark haired man he had been set next to, an insane hope building in his heart as he scanned the scarred face for familiar traits. 

His dead teammate grinned back at him with the same guilty smile that had always infuriated him when they were on a team together, now warped by thick lines of scar tissue but no less recognizable. 

“Hi Kakashi.” 

He had to focus on breathing for a long minute, simply counting the breaths as they stretched his mask over his nose. Just breath, focus on the breathing. The air swept over his lips, slightly chapped, across his tongue, a little dry from the alcohol, down his throat, a tingle of roughness from disuse, filled his lungs, and then back ou- 

“You died. I saw you die. You were crushed under a rock, and you died. You gave me your _eye_.” 

He might be freaking out just a very little bit, a fine quivering building in his fingers so that he set down the saucer of drink and wanted to bury his head between his knees and just not think for a little while but- Obito was here, alive, _older_ , with scars from the rocks and- 

“ _I saw you die; how are you here_.” 

Kakashi could detect the tremor of panic in his tone but he didn’t care about appearances right now because if this was a joke or a prank then someone was going to die and he would break all over again and this time he might not be able to put himself back together; the plate would have been shattered too many times and if anyone tried to fix it then it would be more glue than porcelain- 

“I’m sorry.” 

If there had been a list of words he never expected to hear out of Obito’s mouth, ‘sorry’ would have been near the top right under ‘marry me Kakashi’ and just above ‘I don’t want to be Hokage’ and hearing it here and now nearly made him choke. They had been such stupid children, so full of pride, but Obito’s stubbornness had never _killed_ someone, so why should he have to say he was sorry when it was Kakashi that had ruined everything, Kakashi that let Rin die because he wasn’t good enough, Kakashi that couldn’t save Sensei or Wasabi or Nikkei or Hiroki or anyone who mattered- 

“I’m sorry Kakashi. I… I wasn’t- I wasn’t in my right mind, for a, a long time. I thought I was dead too, but- Uchiha Madara found me, he patched me up with some crazy goop,” -Obito waved his abnormally pale greenish-grey arm demonstratively- “he filled my head with all sorts of crazy shit, and then I- I saw… you and Rin… and… I went away, inside.” 

Kakashi didn’t know what to say. Obito had always been a perfect picture inside his head, a mistake forever preserved in the glacial flow of amber memory, a little boy so filled with hope and dreams and care for his team, and Kakashi had failed him, failed all of Team Minato with his stupid love of rules, but now, what was he supposed to say to an Obito who knew about all of it, who wasn’t merely a victim of his weakness but a witness to every one. Now Obito looked _real_ , and sad, and composed in a way that would never have fit on the little boy, and it was that, more than anything that made him think this was real and not just a dream or a hallucination. 

“It’s okay, Kakashi. I forgive you.” 

His heart stopped. 

“I always wanted to think I could have done better, but I just let all my feelings fester like an idiot and didn’t try to move on. I never got better, I wasn’t as strong as you. It wasn’t until Hiroki found me that I realized what an idiot I was being.” 

He wanted to tell Obito no, that he forgave him, that he didn’t need to look down and smile sadly, because if this was real life, if this was reality, then it didn’t matter what he’d done in the past because here, now, he was alive, and that was all that mattered. 

Unfortunately the constriction in Kakashi’s throat was so tight that all that came out was a very quiet ‘ok’. 

It was enough though, because Obito (alive, Obito was alive) gave him a smile, crooked and stretched, and so different from his memories of that little boy, and… everything was going to be okay. 

Kakashi… needed a little air. And a moment to process. After a tentative hug, which Obito returned with much good natured grumbling but significantly more force, he wandered off to… get a drink. A much bigger drink than the small saucer of sake he had dropped on the ground in his shock at seeing Obito ( _alive_ , he was alive). 

He eventually found a quiet spot to sit down again with an entire bottle of plum wine for himself on an only slightly damp spot of grass far away from the more active center of the party, where it appeared the younger generation was attempting to start up a bit of a rave, Sasuke and Naruto spinning around alternately with Hinata, Sakura and each other.  

He still couldn’t quite parse Obito’s return; it was too foreign, too unexpected. He believed it, sort of, in that way one believed the events of a dream, through a haze, but it hadn’t integrated yet, hadn’t settle into his brain as a fact. The Hokage was not very surprised when his student, apparently instrumental in the recovery of the lost Uchiha, sat down next to him with a careful motion to keep the thick folds of robe straight. 

For several minutes they simply sat next to each other in silence, watching as the edge of the golden moon peeked over the Hokage monument. Kakashi needed more time to think, and the younger ninja was perceptive enough to realize that. It was several minutes and half the bottle of wine before the silence was broken. 

“I couldn’t think of a better way to break the news to you. I am sorry about that.” 

The Hatake took a long sip of his wine, enjoying the burn on his tongue and simply nodding to show he had heard and accepted his companion’s words. Honestly, he didn’t know how to go about something like that either. If he found Wasabi, bright, earnest Wasabi, wandering in the market one day, how in the hell would he tell Hiroki about it? 

“Sensei, I’m planning something… big.” 

He turned his head, meeting the serious gaze of the (not so young anymore) Uchiha. He didn’t say anything for a moment, simply inspecting his subordinate, from the small crease of worried concern between his eyebrows, to the edge of a lip pulled under teeth in a nervous chewing motion. 

“When you were my Genin, you said you would never hurt your teammates because to do so would be against the Will of Fire. I always knew your logic was a little bit… screwy, when it came to orders, but you’ve always held to that promise. You are one of the most fiercely loyal and protective ninja under my command, and what you said then hasn’t changed that I can see. I trust you.” 

Hiroki blinked back at him, apparently at a loss for words, and Kakashi had to chuckle at the comical look of surprise on his student’s face. 

The young Jounin pouted (still as cute as ever (nope, that thought is going into the vault)) and picked at the grass sullenly, looking away towards the center of the party. 

“Seriously? Just ‘I trust you’? I had this whole speech prepared to convince you and everything…” 

His junior looked back at him with a slightly guilty expression of worry, searching for approval. 

Kakashi rolled his eyes and had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing at the intensely precious face, before giving permission with a magnanimous wave of his hand. 

“Well, if you had a whole speech prepared…” 

The last surviving member of squad 19 smiled, still a little tentative, like he expected Kakashi to disapprove but was going to take the chance anyway. 

“Right, well… So! Um, kind of a lot of things really, uh, not sure where to start… So, you know I’ve been engaging in some… extracurricular activities? Visiting ‘new places’ and meeting ‘new people’?” 

The Rokudaime nodded, eyebrows raised in polite expectation, waiting for something he didn’t already know. He had approved Hiroki’s request to take a leave of absence himself while working as Tsunade-sama’s undersecretary shortly after Team 7 had swept the Chunin exams. 

“Right, so, the thing is, most of the places have kind of been the other villages, and most of those people have been, um, jinchuriki.” 

That brought a very small wrinkle of concern to the military head of one of those villages but, seeing as he hadn’t heard any new rumblings from any of the other Kage about missing jinchuuriki, it seemed like whatever Hiroki had done had passed unnoticed. 

“And, I kind of, borrowed half of each of the bijuu…” 

“Half? You know what, never mind. Continue.” 

For a second he had wanted to be surprised, but, on reflection, that was exactly the sort of insane thing a ninja who had invented an invisible fire jutsu would do. Kakashi resolved to simply take everything the raven haired man said as it came; he had the odd notion that if he stopped his old student at every statement which seemed nonsensical that this conversation would take several years longer. 

“Okay… so… Ugh! _Okay_ , so Naruto died during the Chunin exams, and I sort of got the next level of Sharingan from that because I had implanted my mother’s eye, and so it turned into a Mangekyou, and then into an Eternal Mangekyou, which is like a special thing that happens when two related people with Mangekyou swap eyes, and I had _sort of_ harvested Naruto and Sasuke for tissue samples to try and get a little bit of their transmigrant chakra natures since they’re the reincarnation of the two sons of the Sage of Six Paths, so then the Eternal Mangekyou turned into a Rinnegan, which probably got helped along by the fact that I’ve got the cells of the Shodaime too, and I was already the host to Kokuo, which, um, you knew about, so then I brought Naruto back to life but I went a little crazy, so he punched some sense into me and I realized that the problem with the shinobi world isn’t really the hate but the fact that people keep dying!” 

Kakashi blinked his single open eye very slowly at Hiroki, processing that verbal diarrhea. 

Naruto had died, but the blond was alive now, so he could ignore that.  

Hiroki had harvested bits from Sas- Nope, irrelevant. Sasuke and Naruto were the reincarnation of the Sage’s sons. Interesting, but not immediately pertinent.  

Hiroki had the Rinnegan, that explained the purple eye. Neat?  

The problem was that people kept dying. Well, no argument there. 

“Hiroki, you didn’t say what your plan was. You’re going to stop people from dying?” 

The sort of half shrug he got back for the question seemed to indicate ‘yes’, as did the continued nervous shredding of grass blades. Kakashi hummed thoughtfully and took another sip of his alcohol. 

“So, how are you going to do that, exactly?” 

“Well, since I’ve got a piece of each of the Bijuu in me now (I snagged half of the Kyuubi from inside the Shinigami’s stomach), I can use a technique called Infinite Tsukuyomi.” 

Catching the look of recognition in Kakashi’s eye, Hiroki nodded, smiling gingerly. 

“Yeah, it’s like a genjutsu, but it’s a genjutsu so powerful that it isn’t distinguishable from reality, bounced off the moon so it hits everyone at once. It will be exactly like the real world, except that, you know, nobody will be able to die unless they really want to, and even then they’d have to _really_ want it, not just... because they’re depressed from something recent like… your dad.” 

The pain was an old pain, and the last Hatake simply nodded to signal his comprehension before voicing a comment. 

“You would have to manage the illusion perfectly for each person in it, wouldn’t you? How would you keep track of all of that?” 

His student hummed in pleased surprise at the lack of open hostility. Kakashi could see problems with the idea, sure, but the fundamental concept was sound. Philosophy had never been an interest of his, but he knew enough to have no objection to living in a perfect illusion. 

“Actually, I made a Seal for that. It’s- well, it’s sort of like a synthetic… not a _person_ exactly, because it doesn’t really _think_? Per se? But a synthetic _mind_ , like, like a super smart dog, whose only goal in life was to serve as best it could.” 

He cocked his head thoughtfully, sending the hanging folds of cloth on his hat swinging gently.  

“Is that safe?” 

“I tested it. It works, it’s stable. It reinforces itself; it _wants_ to want the thing it wants. And it will all be powered by the Jubi, an infinite well of negentropy. I tested _that_ too; no matter how much chakra I spend the Bijuu regenerate, and that energy doesn’t _come_ from anywhere. Not that I can find, anyway. I supposed it might be leeching power from another universe or… something like that, but if that _is_ where chakra comes from then we’d probably all just drop dead someday when it ran out anyway so… I think they might recharge themselves from Natural Energy, which is just a byproduct of life in general. So long as there are living things, the energy will keep regenerating, and the energy can be used to keep things alive. It’s circular. It doesn’t have to run out, and if it does it will be… trillions of years in the future, maybe more. Like I said, I can’t see where the Bijuu draw energy from, and I have _very_ good eyes.” 

Kakashi hummed thoughtfully, looking up at the moon which had risen high enough in the sky to bleed to a pale and lustrous white. An everlasting world, where no one died and there was a god around who actually cared and interfered… 

It sounded too good to be true. But that wasn’t an actual thing. Nothing was ‘too good’ or ‘too bad’; there might be pitfalls to the plan that he wasn’t seeing, that Hiroki wouldn’t see, but there didn’t _have_ to be. There was no rule of the universe that said ‘you can’t have nice things’ even if it sometimes felt that way. 

Obito was alive. Things could get better, they could _be_ better than you ever expected, than you ever anticipated or dared to hope for in your wildest dreams. 

“Hiroki, I trust you.” 

And Kakashi did. He really did. His student might be cracked, he might be peculiar and prone to odd whimsy, but for all of that Hiroki was effective and loyal to a fault; if he thought this would work, then… Kakashi trusted him. 

“Oh geez, does that mean I ensured my own existence via acausal loops for nothing then? I even sealed away the Moon Goddess so she wouldn’t interfere!” 

Nope, not gonna think about that one either. 

“Hiroki, do the thing.” 

Hiroki smiled, radiating pleasure at the approval, then turned and looked up at the splendid moon with a shining purple eye. 

“Tsukuyomi.” 

There was a faint ripple, an instant of disorientation, like missing a step while seeing the world through a heat haze, and then… everything looked pretty much the same. He glanced at his student, who was himself looking around with a critical eye (all three of them) and poking at the ground like he half expected it to dissolve. 

Kakashi raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 

“Did it work?” 

“Actually, it did Hokage-sama.” 

He shifted to look towards his other side, and noted what looked somewhat like a copy of Hiroki, save for that is was faintly glowing a pearlescent white, and that it had a sort of **presence** that the old ninja could feel all the way down to his soul. 

The luminous figure smiled with good natured cheer and gave a little wave, long white robes rustling gently. 

“My name is HirokAI, and I’m here to satisfy your values through friendship, and ninja.”

 

.           .           .

 

And they all lived Satisfied ever after.

.           .           .

 

END KALEIDOSCOPE

 

.           .           .

A/N:The best-case worst-case scenario. Welcome to your digital afterlife.

  

 All over bar the crying.


	59. Epilogue

All three members of Team 7 made Chunin on their first try, and were rewarded with the chance to try for a summoning contract. Sakura contracted the Hummingbirds and Sasuke contracted the Elephants. Naruto could have contracted the Foxes, but Kyuubi put his foot down because he thought that was retarded, so didn’t. Sasuke and Naruto dated casually for about a year, on and off starting about a year after the Chunin exams, and they both got to know Hinata a little better on the side. Sakura was initially pretty peeved, but eventually subsided because both of the boys were smoking hot and she enjoyed fantasizing about them together. The boys tried to include her more than once, but she never quite clicked with their still fairly loosely defined relationship, though they had a few fun times together. Team 7 still went on missions together almost constantly and Naruto and Sasuke made it a point to ‘break up’ before each mission and get back together afterwards; all three made it to Jounin within a month of each other shortly prior to the upload. 

After eventually settling into a triad with Naruto and Hinata, Sasuke came to realize that though he enjoyed the physical parts of the relationship alright he didn’t really have any particular interest in pursuing that himself. He eventually migrated into a somewhat more platonic, but no less intimate or meaningful relationship with both of them, opening the way for Shino, who had been quietly pining after Hinata for a few years. Sasuke got along quite well with the new addition to their odd little group, and he and Shino became good friends while Naruto and Hinata incorporated the Aburame into the more sexually active part of the quartet with barely a ripple. Kiba attempted to join, but didn’t fit the dynamic at all and left after only a few months, never having gotten any. 

Sakura realized that her preferences had shifted as she pursued a more aggressive medical career (but kept up all her other skills as well) and started hanging out more with Ino, who she eventually started dating. After some ‘gentle nudging’ from Hiroki, Sasuke put aside his disinterest in sex to father children; one by Hinata (her third after two from Naruto/Shino) and one each by both Ino and Sakura, who got married and raised the children as their own; eventually Sakura had a second by Naruto under a similar arrangement (she had a good eye for genes). Sasuke was more of an uncle to the Kunoichi pair’s children, but raised Sarada, his daughter by Hinata, alongside all the rest of Hinata’s nine children (she decided after the fourth that she had a bit of a pregnancy fetish) as their third father. Although he had only sired one of the nine kids he ended up the major male presence; Naruto became the Nanadaime at 20 which kept him quite busy, while Shino continued to pursue a career as a ninja which took him away from home for long periods.  

They lived in the renovated Uchiha Main House, which was gradually expanded alongside the remodelling of the Uchiha District into a frankly preposterously sprawling manor; despite it’s massive size it never became very fancy as it was far too lived in. Though technically a quartet, the boys eventually realized they all orbited Hinata, who managed to get them wrapped around her fingers without ever raising her voice above what most would call a demure murmur (except during sex, which prompted Naruto to place soundproofing seals around the master bedroom, which he had to upgrade no less than three times). They all agreed that this was only proper, and entirely satisfactory. 

Hiroki married Hanako _and_ Tetsuhide, and ended up with 7 children of his own; two by Anko (who never did become fat), one by Inuzuka Hana (which was rather a surprise to both of them), and three by Hanako herself. The last child was made using the Sex-Change jutsu he perfected after acquisition of the Rinnegan to bear a child from Tetsuhide. Hiroki enjoyed the pregnancy for the most part, but felt so bad for Hanako that he never suggested another child, even though she was amenable. Hanako was actually the one to propose to both boys, and upon their engagement moved herself into the Uchiha Manor without waiting for an invitation. As she was ANBU Captain and five months pregnant at the time (having grown only more dominant in the passing of years), no one said anything, and Hiroki’s brood meshed quite well with that of Hinata and her harem. Anko was not a major presence in her the lives of her fraternal twin sons but they didn’t mind as they had more than enough family as it was. Hana was a friendly aunt, but let Hiroki take charge of raising Tatsumi for the most part (though she did insist on getting her a dog). 

Saiko took after her mother more than anyone would have expected, and combined with her father’s still occasionally worrisome intensity became an absolute terror through her academy years. Her graduating class was so cowed that her Genin team ended up failing Kakashi’s bell test (he had agreed to come out of semi-retirement as a favor to Hiroki) as both her teammates tried to give _her_ their bells and wouldn’t hear a word against it. Kakashi tried to tell them they had technically passed, but the boys ran away leaving Saiko behind. He took her as an apprentice, and she eventually became the Hachidaime after Naruto retired at age 53 to ‘spend more time with his kids and grandkids’. She ruled with an iron fist and ominous buzzing sound for over a century, before she got bored and quit to join her mother rock gardening. No one complained, as even while seven months pregnant she could beat the pants off any three Kage you cared to name. She had one child by each of her three half-brothers (which most of the Uchiha thought was a bit passe but were unwilling to challenge) and seven male cousins (including Itachi and Obito, though neither of them knew it (she _really_ wanted to beat her aunt Hinata’s record)), and is generally regarded as the prime matriarch behind the rejuvenation of the Uchiha clan proper. 

Itachi remained the slightly awkward uncle at the periphery of the Uchiha explosion for many years, but, at Hiroki’s ‘gentle nudging’ (which eventually involved copious amounts of liquor and some MDMA) managed to sire no less than five children during a rather blurrily remembered orgy involving virtually all of the Kunoichi from his graduating class, and Anko. 

Kakashi staunchly refused to produce any offspring of his own recognizance, even under the influence of ‘gentle nudging’, but eventually conceded to donate some sperm which went on to produce no less than 22 Uchiha-Hatake (Hiroki remained _very_ good at persuading his various relatives to have kids, and he was rather miffed about how much Kakashi had made him work for it). The Hatake white chakra meshed _exceedingly_ well with the Uchiha, and the world breathed a quiet sigh of relief when most of them turned out lazier than a Nara and twice as tardy. 

Obito put himself in hibernation for a decade while waiting for Rin to be resurrected and age up a bit; they started dating properly after he emerged and eventually were happily married and had just two children, and were generally considered to be prudish weirdoes by the rest of the Uchiha for their entirely normal and traditional relationship. The rest of the crazily convoluted and tangled semi-incestous cluster fuck (often litterally) was eventually dubbed the Uchiha Sprawl, and was forced to enact birth control measures after having consumed the Uzumaki and Aburame entire, most of the Hyuuga, and starting in on the Inuzuka, reaching a population of almost 500 in just three generations, all of them terrifying to a greater or lesser degree thanks to the eclectic mix of bloodlines and/or clan abilities. 

Less than a dozen people on Earth noticed the transition to the upload; however nobody believed them and they eventually stopped trying to tell anyone after getting personal pleasure palaces. In order to keep the ninja world spinning as it had been without inter-village conflict HirokAI staged an incursion of demon spawn from Hell. Naturally, the Pure World needed to help out, and everyone who had ever died was eventually resurrected. By the time the minor inconsistencies with it all started coming to light, everyone was used to it and didn’t really mind. Those that did tried to explain why the old way was better to their immortal, eternally happy children, only to realize that they sounded like idiots. 

When Otsutsuki Momoshiki and Kinshiki showed up twenty years later, they found a planet lush and growing despite having only one species (a heavily modified shinju hybrid which had assimilated the biome). They too lived satisfied ever after.

Realizing chakra violated basic thermodynamic principles, HirokAI eventually consumed the entire Universe and all of its neighboring dimensions via the Shar-Rinnegan. Fortunately for all the other species of life everywhere and everywhen, Hiroki had possessed the good sense to include literally everything with two neurons (or equivalent structures) to string together into the AI’s parameters for upload. The party never ended. 


End file.
